Pillars of the Earth: the Quirks and Qualities

My friends and I are lonely people. I love them because of their loneliness and melancholy, and because they remind me of myself.

Life has shown me some things about myself and others; I have learned that some things that seem so certain often disappear without warning or seemingly without cause, and some things that seem temporary, like seasons in time, just remain and grow stronger with age. I always thought certain people would always stay in my life, but maybe it was that very direct certainty that was the thing that made it all come undone. I don't know...I think I've always seen relationships as future-oriented love, but my mistake has been in my tendency to see things as certain, instead of as having the [very human] potential to fail.

Now, my thoughts have changed over this very productive Thanksgiving holiday and I have learned some new things to be thankful for. I have changed immensely this past year. I think I grew up--scary thought--and suddenly entered this strange state of realization about what life really is not. (I believe I am still likewise unable to say what life is, though...) I see the things in life that are steady, the pillars that are more than mere signposts and truly are structural components that keep me standing. These structures that hold me secure are not the permanence of anything, not the fulfillment of dreams, not the little things in life that I take pleasure in, although they are truly connected. These pillars that hold me steady are people: my best friends.There are codes in keeping with these friends of mine: specific codes for each friend and universal codes for all. I love each of my best friends with my whole heart (it's as though I have 5 whole hearts) and do not speak against them, or allow others to talk badly about them. Even when I am confused by my best friends actions or in disagreement with their decisions, I am behind them to support them against the world (although that is not meant to imply I didn't give them hell behind the scenes when no one was looking! What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't look out for them?) I want my best friends to be beside me all my life and I truly cannot imagine not having them to hold on to. This past year has been an example of the testing of bonds, in every quarter, and my best friends have come through it with me--stronger for the survival.

My best friends have unique qualities that I love, and each one of them has some parts that are like mirror images of me: opposite in some senses, but identical in others. Even in our dissimilarities, we all have certain connections that make our bond secure. Each of them holds a piece of me and yet, because of their differences, I cannot imagine living without them as a whole. They make me stronger as myself, and they make the complicated concept of "me" make sense.

A tribute to my best friends; from oldest to newest (in order of our acquaintance, not in order of importance--not that I could ever assign an order of importance to these beloved individuals)

This is a public version of my annual Christmas letters.

Michelle Deane Cox, since December 30, 1986

Michelle doesn't have a choice in the matter of best friendship. God made her born to the same parents for the sole purpose of giving me my first best friend. (In humor, I state truth.) Michelle and I fight (less often now that we're older, I guess) yet through our fights we have come to understand each other. (We're siblings; siblings fight. No explanations should be necessary.) It's funny because I have come to realize that Michelle and I achieve something that would be otherwise unachievable between other friends: we understand that we don't always understand and that brings us to an understanding--Michelle, do you understand? If so, you prove my point! We don't always know why the other does what she does, but we definitely know what the other is going to do...or at least in a small, vaguely foreboding way. We know and understand each others shortcomings from 23 years of living together--and living with two other people who are varying degrees of us--and we could not know the same knowing with any other friend, no matter how hard we tried. We speak the same language, and a unique one at that, one that often remains uninterpretable to our friends around us. Michelle is smart, talented, beautiful and successful and I'm proud that she's my sister and best friend. Her extreme loyalty throughout the troublesome year has been refreshing and has proven to me that I must always (continue to) do the same. I know that one day she will find the perfect guy who appreciates her for all of her "quirks and qualities," because as the doctor said when she was born, "She's a keeper!" (Or was that me he said it about...hmm, either way)

Disclaimer: Boyfriends who do harm may or may not be verbally abused as a result of this sisterhood...

Robin Lynn Wieringa-Jellema, since December, 1997

When Robin and I met, it was "friendship at first sight." This is often the case with close friends of mine, but with Robin, it was literally instantaneous. I think one or the other overheard some conversation about the seventh grade obsession 'NSync, and the rest was history. Our friendship grew stronger in college years and later high school years, though we had always had a good time together. I think that our friendship has been put through minor tests several times, and we have always come through for each other. This past year has been the test of tests: we were both able to see what the other meant to us and whether the other would be there through tough times, including her living more than five hours away for the past two and a half years! I can still remember one afternoon in May where I felt like the whole world had collapsed at my feet. As I sat there sobbing by myself, feeling completely alone, the only coherent thought that went through my mind was, "Robin!" I remembered that I was in no way alone from all human contact, and I called her. No, she didn't make it all better, at least not right then, but once everything was all better I could easily look back and see her as one of the biggest components of making it better. She is always there to listen and she understands my heart when it comes to matters of great importance. I am so thankful that we have not only remained friends, but become stronger friends over the years. I know she is one of the friends that will always be there for me.

...And I'm about to be an aunt to a little Jellema baby!

Brian Patrick Brennan, since March, 2005

While thinking about Brian's role in my life today, I remembered the early days of our friendship when we used to fight a lot, and when we used to text each other long epistles on our cell phones. It's funny to think about how different we are--no longer texting as much, and definitely not fighting anymore--and yet how all the little tests of time have brought us closer together. We have had each others' backs on more than one occasion throughout our years of knowing each other (remember photocopying work schedules for me so I would know when I should be aware of possible sightings of "The Enemy"? Then there was no enemy, and now there is again, and still you're here.) Brian has been the most loyal friend and the most compassionate listening ear throughout so many difficulties, and he's one guy who, as I've said before, has never not been there. (Let the double negatives fly tonight!)

When I think of Brian, I can never forget the moment 10 gallons of cold water came down on his head (by surprise) at 5:30 one relaxing summer morning of a Home Depot day...

Kelly Ann Baker, since August 2005

I debated for many minutes whether Kelly or Carl came first in chronological order, and I realized that I began to know Kelly several weeks after Carl, but I initially met her 4 1/2 hours before Carl...so we will place people where they are due to be placed. (That was an awesome day, not that I think of it! Wow!)

Kelly Ann is my long-lost sister. When I met her, I was all grown up already, but I felt like she had somehow grown up in my house and I'd never seen her before. Perhaps it comes from love of the same things--literature, music, writing, all things nerdy--that made us become friends, but I don't know for sure. She just seemed to fit into this little niche all her own, somewhere in the middle of my family, like the missing sister that is me, Michelle and my mom all mixed up in one person. Kelly was the one who had my back during another great fallout in my life, and she and I were later almost split by another foolish catastrophe, but through many trials, we somehow remain strong and secure. Our friendship--sisterhood?--has mellowed out to become a calm understanding that we'll be there for each other. I am very thankful for Kelly, and I miss her terribly during the school year now that we are both so terribly busy. Kelly is a beautiful person, inside and out, and I am happy for her in her soon-to-be marriage. I have always hoped that she would find someone who appreciated all of her many quirks and qualities that I hold dear, and I am so glad that she has! To me, she is a wonderful woman who deserves and equally wonderful husband. (I approve of Tom.)

I miss our CD burning nights in which we accomplish no homework yet stay up until sunrise. Oh, and coloring princess coloring books instead of studying linguistics. Oh, and the wonderful moment when we discovered that our linguistic book was made in Boston because of the phonetic key! I miss Kelly who taught me to embrace my inner nerd...and make it my outer nerd!

Carl Walter Roach, since August 2005

I met Carl's 6 foot 6 and 3/4 inch self by sharing a desk with him on Andy Miller's (and my) first day at Purdue Cal. After class, we went out in the parking lot and talked for two hours. When I got home and my mom asked me how my first day of school was, I said it was awesome...oh and I met the male version of myself. Since the first day, I knew Carl and I were meant to be friends, but almost five years later I find him to have a lot higher friendship ranking than I originally imagined. He has literally proven himself to be the male version of "me"--literature lover that he is--and he complements me perfectly as an amazing friend. We recently discussed our friendship code--that no one comes between us...EVER...no further explanation necessary--and we will never again allow ourselves on near-friendship-ending grounds. (It is great to know that he has my back just like I have his!) I love everything about him--seriously, where did such a great guy come from? (I laughingly recall that I said he was just like me...ah, I amuse myself.) Our friendship has grown stronger and stronger, and somehow this past year has been the best yet. With all the other shipwrecks of relationships and friendships around us, ours still stands in spite of the storms. It is my hope that Carl finds happiness in his life, because in spite of his emo tendencies (I don't mean that negatively. It is, after all, a common quality of the English major...) he does deserve it because he is a unique and wonderful person (I love all his 1,001 weirdnesses) and I am honored to be among his best friends. I might love him too much, I think. Seriously, isn't he adorable (and a tall something)? Ha. I also can't get over this picture...he's really been around a long time, it makes me feel a little old, but also really glad to know that he's still here.

I can remember all of the fun times with Carl (and we have had many, such as me supposedly almost killing him in an ice storm, us almost sleeping on the floor in Gyte the morning of a big paper, and him spilling random beverages in inappropriate places on his clothing) but the more serious side of our friendship--more lately developed--has been a comfort to me this year and stands in a place of highest importance over even the fun memories.

For Thanksgiving this year, I am thankful to God for giving me all of the wonderful people he has given me to love and be loved by. No one will ever take you guys away from me! I love you.

You guys keep me standing and I couldn't ever be the same person without each of you.

Hilarious, ancient ramblings...

From April 18, 2006:

It is now a blog! THE NERDITY OF THE MIND

There is a blog in progress.

EDIT:

For those scoffers (no names mentioned, Kels) who did not believe that this would become a blog, to them I dedicate this. I simply find rare moments when my computer works so it seemed like the most logical thing to...oh no one cares. Let me begin my blog.

This piece of writing has been a thought process for many weeks, but I, being the busy woman that I am, have not had time to take pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, respectively, to convey the thoughts into a medium easily understandable by non-members of my personal brain cult. My subject is nerdity, my purpose is to promote it and my goal is to make you love it...you, oh desired reader, whose secret longing for my heart draws you to my blog. Be amazed, interested, and amused. May I suck you in to the deep thoughts of my tangled mind.

Most of my profound thoughts are concocted in the deep cogitations of my heart during intense plant watering at the Home Depot. There are so many thoughts that flit through my brain: here....gone...back...gone...here. sit awhile...run away again. By the time I have a moment with a good piece of paper and a pen ("good" to be expanded upon in future) I am either falling asleep or my thoughts have definitely fled. As they are fleeing now...rapidly... Oh, I finally have a functioning computer and I have no thoughts!

Nerdiness, I must say, is a blessing and a curse. In each nerd, the characteristic plays differently, affecting the mind or the body or the soul or varied combinations of all three. With me, it is very certain combination of all three. It affects everything I say and do, it influences my emotions and my morals, it intensifies my feelings and my addictions; in short, it makes me who I am. Well, of course it does! I am: A NERD.

I write with Zebra pens. Not just any Zebra pen for Zebra makes many kinds. They are the stainless steel fine point black pens. They MUST be stainless steel, they MUST be fine point and they MUST be black. There are no other ways to make this known. Simply put, I MUST use these pens. And they cannot write on any old paper. Notes can be written on lineless paper as long as the paper is soft, but not smooth or shiny and never thick. I prefer a grain so that the ink is absorbed, but not TOO absorbed so that it spreads, blends or disappears. Lined paper is ideal for intense writing. If the words have purpose or beauty or convey innermost thoughts (as I desire all of my words to do) then the paper simply must be lined. The lines have to be thin. And here, I am not referring to college ruled. I mean the actual lines that the words sit upon must be thin. The print must be thin, the ink must be light or the lines will be greater than the fine-point-penned words, and that may never be!!! (Such would be an abomination!) As for rules, indeed, college ruled is the greatest line size imaginable. Wide-ruled is for fools and non-nerds. May I never be compelled to write on such blasphemous paper, such an abomination to the beauty of my art! University ruled paper sets my heart a-flutter (as long as the lines are printed finely, as I said) and my Zebra pen (of stainless steel, fine point and black ink) cries out in excitement at the prospect.

Words...writing...pens...paper...Such are my lovers! May I never be without them.

Such are the ramblings of a true nerd. Next time: WORDS: BEHIND THE SCENES. For now, the means by which they get to you...Crystal L. Cox, signing off!

From: December 5, 2005

1-800-DIE-4-CARL........with additional information!!!

For you wayward women out there who find yourself in love with Carl Roach, Jesse & I require extensive pre-screening for any female in Carl's life, to prove elligibility. Cyou handle Carl boot-camp? Do you desire him simply because he's the modern example of a Greek god or because his deeply senstive nature stirs the depths of your poetic soul? Are your reasons superficial & self-interested or is this emotion that excites you truly the eternal love that withstands the tests of time? These are the types of probes you will be faced with. Sessions are held on the third weekend of every month, lasting three days, generally Friday through Sunday. (For inquiries, office hours are Mondays-thru-Thursdays weekly between one and four a.m. only.) Activities include desert wandering without water supplies, walking on hot coals and high-diving with a ball and chain around your neck. A fee of "as long as you shall live" is required up front, plus the cost of meals and application fees (which are $7,461.67, updated seasonally). All applicants are required to submit application forms accompanied by a 12,000,000 word essay (Question: "Why do you think you would be a suitable wife for Carl?") Final exams and interrogations are held the weekend following workshops, led by Jesse, and usually lasting a minimum of 36 hours. (We are not responsible for lost or stolen items or deaths during these sessions.) Results (typically rejections, since we have found no elligible females at this time) are usually sent within 3 years of the completion date of this course--allow 6 weeks for delivery. Bring your own bedding, housing units (electricity supplied) and items needed to maintain personal hygene. Toilets not provided. These figures do not include the cost of course supplies.

For more information contact us at 1-800-DIE-4-CARL or visit our website @ www.ifyouwannamarrycarljesseandcrystalcantalkyououtofit.com
No refunds.

From: May 2, 2006

Carl's BIO for Skylark

Carl Roach is an avid reader and writer, attending college at Purdue University Calumet indefinitely. His parents are members of the faculty and therefore pull strings to get him preferential treatment on campus. He often parks his BMW in the faculty parking zones and aids his professors in operating electronic equipment in order to earn extra brownie points (called "hard earned A's" by the rest of us). He drinks a lot of Starbucks, spills a lot of Starbucks and tells a lot of funny jokes, his best being an impersonation of a gay, Mexican man named Esteban who always shows up at Starbucks while the humble editor is driving. Carl also loves to write satirical accounts of actual events, brag about the amounts of beer he can consume and hide behind his Greek nose.



From: Augiust 11, 2006

Thoughts in Words

Contemplations at 12:54 a.m. on what will eventually become the day of Saturday, August 12, 2006.

I think too much. Did I ever tell you that? It is most assuredly the truth. I do not believe that I have ever let thirty minutes go by without somehow allowing my brain to lapse back into the strange and absurd lifeform known primarily--and creepily--as THOUGHT PROCESSES. Lately, I have begun to think that my description of "contemplations" is vaguely incorrect. After all, often times my thoughts are from a serious, though nearly vegetative, state of subconsciouness so that I am very nearly hynotized in my brain rather than genuinely "thinking". Could I tell you what my thoughts are of? Often, no. Am I able to explain my sudden sadnesses or happinesses? Verily, I cannot. This is, indeed, because I am beginning to cease in my prolonged habit of thinking in words and I have begun to think in elusive mists of ideas. Yet the wordiness shall return...I promise. What I need--though I hate to say it--is a classroom, a notebook of college-ruled, lined paper, a Zebra pen, and hours of uninteresting classroom conversation at my disposal in which my thoughts may make themselves manifest in the WRITTEN WORD. Ahh, I admit it! I cannot wait...

Whatchacallit...I'm sleepy. (Compliments of Brian)

Work, early. Long day ahead. Little sleep in my recent past...The Answer is Obvious.

Happy Friday Night! Who goes out on Friday night anyway? Assuredly not I!

From: October 12, 2006

The Excesses of Semesterial Anti-Bliss

Hi, this is Crystal, reporting back after a night filled with long, rigorous paper-writing for Daniel Punday, professor of English. The class is Literary Theory, the text is S/Z, the writer is Roland Barthes, the subject is readerly and writerly, the summation is intense, the reaction is frustrated interest, the result is...

infantilization of self

thank you, and goodbye.

Stealing Dreams

I'm hoping it's the sickness, or the medicine, or even, dare I say, the cynicism that's been instilled in me this year after the loss or visible destruction of a large number of things that once stood as pillars of hope and promise in my life. At any rate, the self-destructiveness of my dreams is starting to irk me.

My dreams, let me first explain, have always been a place of escape for me. The images are vibrant, colorful and other-worldly. The scenarios are like heavenly movies: the kinds of things that happen could only happen in imagination, but since dreams are flights of fancy, I can accept the fantasy. So, the dreams may never come true, but some have in part, and I believe eternity has other pieces of those dreams in store for me.

However, lately my dreams have been horrifying and despairing for me because they begin beautiful and turn on me. They become dark representations of destruction and loss and sadness for me, and I awake feeling unhappy and listless. Even my dreams don't want me to find happiness anymore...

If I'm in love with you and can never have you, I can handle that, but only if I can dream of you. If I am to fail in my attempts and lose my life and see my hopes of something else dashed to pieces against a brick wall, fine, but I need my dreams of beauty and happiness to get me through. I need my dreams for survival as they are tokens of eternal promises. How can I live if my dreams are stolen from me along with everything else?

To Say it Would be to Say Too Much

We don't really know what to expect from life when we're young and inexperienced, so we paint the brightest pictures of the loveliest things, imagining what could be. We come to expect these dreams to come true.

Cast off yet again from the gates to my dreams-come-true, I find myself back at square one (my permanent residence, it seems). But some things never changed.

So we sat together in a brightly-lit room, cheery because of its brightness, yet dim enough to hide some imperfections, and we tried to reclaim our younger days of youth and innocence, hoping to recapture the joy and optimism, at least for a time. The endeavor wasn't quite as successful as we'd hoped it would be; we became quite serious after while and our conversation drifted into matters of a grown-up significance, the kinds of topics our younger selves would have fled from with shrieks and waving hands. We involuntarily lapsed back into our new-found sedentary approaches to life, our not-unpleasant--if artificial--steadiness that smoothed the surface over the deep fears and emotional turmoils we sought to keep hidden.

We were perpetually in flux, stuck between our childish selves that we had half cast off with with sentimental sighs and denial, and the very necessary adult selves that were so carelessly sensible and boldly averse to dreams of youth, without any reason for either the boldness or the aversion. We were not ourselves anymore, and yet we were no one else. We were in a transitional stage between what we were and what we were going to be, yet we couldn't help but to wonder if somehow we were at our end. "They" say we'll keep going, keep changing, and eventually it will all make sense, but we had no idea where it would finally stop. We talked like we knew we would make it in this world, but both of us were painfully aware of the fact that the other was also floundering, with no idea at all.

In the span of years that took us from hopeful caterpillars to our current state of entrapment in strange cocoons, we'd changed. A lot. We couldn't help wondering if we ever would become butterflies--or even if we wanted to be butterflies; after all, that was the expected result of this cocooning business--or if somehow this was it. We hadn't been given a choice in the matter; remaining a bright, happy caterpillar was never something we could have chosen for ourselves. It was a limited tour.

There had to be more, I told myself, and then it occurred to me that there was. Through all the fun and adventure, the heartbreaks and tears, that we had suffered separately, we had also changed together, not apart. Like so many who stand watching breaches form between them, powerless to stop their expansion, this had been the case with us and so many others, but we had not looked at each other through it all. I was certain there was something different between us, after all this, but there was no widening chasm pulling us farther and farther apart. It was as though the widening chasms all around us had driven us both backward until we hit, back to back. We'd turned to find each other, standing alone together on precarious footing. We stared for a while, deep into each others eyes, before we realized it, but even then without words.

No, I said to myself, I'm imagining this. Because we're both lonely I want to imagine there is more. Without trembling fingers and thrills of delight, this feels like nothing. Love is always like that, so exciting and fluttery, right before it ends in abandonment. And yet, while I was feeling nothing like that, something about this felt even more right...

I love my friends, and I treasure the people in my life. I could never let them go, nor would I want to. Those who have removed themselves from me have left scars that never fully heal from their perpetually smarting insides. As he looked back at me from across the table, with the staid seriousness of a friend who truly understood and cared, I realized that a bridge of years had somehow spanned between us without my knowledge of when and how it was constructed. Deep currents flowed between us without separating us. Until that moment, I hadn't realized how much I wanted very much to never lose him.


My heart doesn't exactly race when I see him, and my palms do not grow clammy at the thought of his touch, yet a deep longing for him settles deep inside and overwhelms me with a desire to be freed from its cocooning bounds. I want him to know, and little pieces come out under the guise of silly jokes, and yet I am likewise perfectly content to remain as we are. There is no way of knowing, and just now, no drive to find out, where this feeling will take us, or even if it is shared. It's different, this thing between us, holding us together like a glue, and yet stronger than a traditional bond. There is no fear, no worry, no wondering, no "what if," only an understanding--quiet, peaceable, and still--that is, and has taken a very long time to become, a deep and steady love.













I don't seek a relationship "status" or even a name for this thing, whatever it is, because to replace that, there is a confidence I have never felt before in a thing I don't even believe in anymore..to name it would be to risk its coming undone, while here in its very indefiniteness it could remain always: known to us both and never mentioned.

To say it would be to say too much.

Thoughts in my head on a different day...

These are some of the things I am thinking about:

--love and relationships
--career goals
--writing goals
--OTHER GOALS
--friends
--adventure
--travel

Is this really going to fit into a single post?

Okay, here's my first take on the whole shebang. When I wrote the above list, I realized that the biggest issue I face right now is GOALS. But I haven't been accomplishing them. I made a new friend on Facebook the other day and the very first thing I saw when going to his profile, right in my face, was this statement as a tagline: "It's easy to sit and ponder yet so few can transition that dream into action. Have you taken a risk lately?" Not much, perhaps, but enough to get under my skin and irk me for more than 24 hours, because here I am sitting at my computer "pondering" and more than ever wanting to take the plunge without calculating risks...I need to just jump in and do what I want.

Since May, my life has inadvertently revolved around the question, "What comes next?" and I have casually tossed the question aside while curling up in my proverbial comfy chair to mope. (Isn't sitting around dreaming about something without ever making the move to go for it kind of like moping?) I have several ideas about what could come next, and the same thing could come next just as easily as something new. It's all a matter of how hard I strive to get it. I have given myself the benefit of the doubt--oh, don't worry, Crystal, you have a broken heart right now! Eventually you'll pick up and be the old dream chaser again, just like you once were--but I feel that 6 months time is more than enough time to "mope" over something that isn't changing anyway. I mourned my loss, I calculated my remaining assets, I reconsidered the path as I saw it, I came to a unique understanding of what happened and why (After all, the answers that really answer why don't matter much when the result is still "no." The goal is merely to find peace within myself and the ability to move on from what happened.) and I can at least accept the finality now, whether I once liked it or not. 6 months...it doesn't seem like it's even been that long and I think it's because I've locked myself in and held myself there, steadfastly but stubbornly refusing to be removed from a demolished house. When I look back I can see how very much I've changed as a person in the past year. December 31 slipping into midnight will be a pleasant farewell...

So...love and relationships. In summary, these things are nothing at all like the way I imagined them to be, once upon a time. People leave, plain and simple, and the things we expect to last just don't last, and I'm much more comfortable now seeing everything that I do as a step of temporality; at least when I don't believe that something will last, I am so much more likely to appreciate it for its short life. Eternity should exist, and indeed does in other realms, but we as humans ascribe to much to it and expect too much from it. Everyone seeks happiness and comfort and peace and love and we all hope it lasts "forever." Sure, I want that...but I have lately narrowed my list of specific desires down to a mere three things...

1. I want to be with someone who will grow into love with me. My relationship with my best friend Robin is the platonic example of what I want in romantic love. We were just regular friends who knew each other, but there was always something in the back of my mind that told me I wanted to know her better, and over the years she has grown into the person that I go to with everything, and I can't imagine living without her. With romantic relationships, we are all too likely to jump in and press "go," but the flame burns so quickly and then it's burned out. Why can't a relationship grow like a strong, steady tree, so that we go from liking each other to being unable to live without each other without even knowing when the intertwining took place. I thought I had this kind of love before, but as always, my impression was different from the other's impression. The key to this kind of love is that the other person sees it too, not just me.

2. I want it to be simple and true. I need you, you need me, we're better together, let's be together. I realize it takes wading through the dumping grounds of crappy relationships to find a relationship like this, and maybe even then we are too damaged to trust and too frustrated to heal, but I don't know. I have to believe that's out there.

3. I want it to be fun and interesting, but my idea of "interesting" is not overly intimidating, I don't think. This goes with 1 and 2, because if someone loves me like their best friend (provided I can find that kind of love again, and this time to last) the love will be simple and true, and fun and interesting because it's best friendship! My idea of "fun" is to be able to laugh--life without laughter is like a silent representation of a soul without laughter (a dead soul!)--and to be able to cry--because tears are simply outward manifestations of inner emotions, and I think that best friends should be able to share those feelings with each other, or at the very least have them--and be silent--because silence is comfort, although it isn't always romantic, and although I like to talk, one of my favorite things in the world is pure and uninterrupted silence, just to enjoy the love of the person by my side and say nothing at all. What remains unsaid sometimes keeps the mystery alive, and while so many people are intent upon knowing the answers, I've come to realize that as long as the most important answers are certain (namely, that you need me, love me, and won't leave me, and that I feel the same) whatever else is missing will eventually fall into place as the trees intertwine to become one.

I was thinking this morning (I'm finally beginning to think in scenes again, and I love it. I've been waiting almost a year to get back into my own head again) and I imagined that the most pure and simple profession of love would be a marriage proposal that was not necessarily fancy or romantic or rehearsed. It may not contain flowers, candles, dinner, verses of poetry or glistening diamonds, but it would contain the most important possible words, the keys to the heart. I just want that, that bravery that comes with loving someone, someone that will change my mind and make me believe again that people will stay and do need me, I just want to take care of someone who needs me and live a life of care and love with that person. I won't settle for anything less, and if I feel like it's less, I don't want to take it.

The hard part is feeling the same way as someone else; the part that trips up the whole deal is finding out that two people just can't feel exactly the same way about each other, and that there are always the little mysteries...but those are hurdles to jump in time. Right now, none of this is, and the castle I have just constructed in the air before my face will fade into the mist as I turn away...but is it possibly the representation of something in my future? I wish I could just know...but if we always knew the answers to our deepest mysteries, we would give up hope and have nothing to strive for, since we already know we won't achieve it.

I don't even know if I have time to get into the other goals on my list. I guess there will be another blog: "Thoughts in my head later on the same day..."

Thoughts in my head today...

1. I need to get myself a new car. I am absolutely claustrophobic with my inability to leave the house of my own accord and go anywhere I want. I am hopelessly dependent upon transportation, or maybe just freedom. The money that I got from my beloved Otto the Auto was a lot more than I had expected to receive, so I have more leeway when it comes to choosing a vehicle, but I just don't know what I want to do. I guess I'll probably just get something basic, something similar to what I had before, so that I am neither making a serious investment nor spending more money than I am able to spend. Hmm, time to think and shop around!

2. I like confetti cake. For my birthday this year, I want to have some. I want to do something fun for my birthday because this is going to be quite a depressing birthday for me. Last year was bad enough, but this one is even worse, and I'm afraid it's only downhill from here. I feel hopelessly old lately. People keep telling me I'm crazy for thinking of myself as old, but maybe they don't understand. It's not like I am feeling like I'm slipping into the grave, but I definitely am in the weird, entrapping gap between childhood and adulthood, yet I feel like there is some required step between the two, some decision I should make, something...but what? I feel unprepared for this, and I don't even know what I'm supposed to do now. I guess this segues naturally into another thing that's on my mind...

3. I'm not ready to be done with adventures. I kind of want to live that college-like lifestyle again, and this time I want to get a house or something with a group of people. Sure, I may be miserable in that lifestyle, but I am dying to do it. Marriage is no longer in my foreseeable future, so I feel like I need to take the opportunity to do what I want now. I have always wanted to be a kid forever, and I don't see any reason why I have to settle down to so-called mature responsibility. I can hold down my jobs, and I can afford to live and own a car, so I find it reasonable to let go of responsibility in some other areas. I already do this, I know, but I sometimes feel like I am walking on eggshells around adventure, like I can dream about it but I dare not jump in. Someone needs to just push me right in and take the ladder out of the water. I need more spontaneity in my life...I sure have plenty in my head and it goes to waste in there.

4. I want to have a graffiti wall in my room of art, writing, and inspiration. I want to paint the wall whenever I feel like and decorate it with whatever I feel like...

5. I love my students! I love being a teacher! It's not the only thing I want to do, but at least I can say I do love this one thing :) It is exciting to never know what they are going to do or say next, and it's rewarding when they really get better at writing!

6. I've been thinking a LOT about relationships and commitment and what I hope to find in the great search for love (whatever it is)...but these thoughts of today must be saved for continued contemplation in tomorrow...or else maybe tomorrow will have enough thoughts of its own and won't need today's...

Quarter-Life

He bought a motorcycle at 50. It's a mid-life crisis.

She got a face-lift at 47. It's a mid-life crisis.

He left his wife at 52 and started dating a college student. It's a mid-life crisis

She quit her job at 55 and went back to school to train as a professional singer. It's a mid-life crisis.

But...

He graduated from college at 23 with a degree in English and became a waiter at TGIFridays...

She quit college at 25 in the middle of her Master's program and went back to her college retail job...

He taught high school for one year and then at 24 enrolled in college again to start back at square one...

She was engaged to her boyfriend at 20 and changed majors to get married sooner, but when he left her at 23 she realized she hated her new major...

What crisis is this?

It's quite unfair that the world fails to acknowledge the quarter-life crisis, the one that tends to have almost more serious effects on people's lives than even the mid-life crisis. At the quarter-life, we are trying to discover who we are, trying to place ourselves in a state of mind where we expect to be for the rest of our lives, and consider what we are going to be DOING for the next 40 years before retirement. Sure, we are told often enough that this decision doesn't have to be final, but there is no mistaking that this understanding follows us anyway. We spent 4+ years in college pursuing a degree and making plans for a future career with the impression that real life starts when college ends.

Kindergarten prepares us for grade school, grade school prepares us for middle school, middle school prepares us for high school, high school prepares us for college, college prepares us for real life...graduation day passes, and we ask, "Okay, where's life? When does this start?" And they look at us like we're crazy! "Ooh...that...well that was all a joke. You've been in 'real life' all along...this is as good as it gets!"

Oh. Thanks for letting me know, though!

This is the reevaluation period, the "now what?" phase when we discover that nothing is as we imagined, nothing goes the way we hoped it would go, and everything is all pretty dull and normal--why don't they inspire us to see that college is the best it gets? What comes after is pretty ordinary, after all.