You know that feeling when you know your on the edge of catharsis? Like when the music is swelling and it's almost reached it's climax. The emotions of the sound building. The swell of the chords reverberating from your inner ear to the deepest parts of your mind. Bringing your brain to its knees, begging for its pleasurable release.
I've been thinking about that moment. It's intoxicating to me, I long for that moment. I'm addicted to Catharsis. I live my life seeking those cathartic moments of realization. Living so tensely, waiting for the moment when I can feel that release.
In truth, I'm addicted to learning, I can't wait to find a problem and tackle it, the problem's details pushing the boundaries of my mind, creating that tension I long and seek. Waiting for the moment when I solve the problem. The realization that I understand the release I ultimately long for. The Sonata of my life in constant crescendo till a legato takes hold.
Unfortunately like any addiction, the more you do it the less effective it is on giving you that feeling of well-being. And I am no different. With each boundary of my mind pushed it takes a bigger problem to get that release. But that get's me into trouble, my mind is not limitless, and there are some problems I am not meant to face.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
On Connection & Vulnerability
This is an awesome video on connection and loving others well!
http://www.lovingwell.is/tedx-the-power-of-vulnerability-by-brene-brown/
http://www.lovingwell.is/tedx-the-power-of-vulnerability-by-brene-brown/
Friday, August 26, 2011
Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me :D
Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me When I Turned 18 (Happy Birthday Little Brother)
This is for you, little brother, on your 18th birthday, and for all the other little brothers and sisters who are being asked by life to please leave childhood behind, thank you very much.
AUG. 26, 2011
By KAT GEORGE
Little brother, you and I both are very lucky—we have a mother full of wisdom. When I was 18, I wish someone had told me this: that mother is always right. So I am telling you now: all the things she says and does are with your best interests at heart, and everything she tells you will come to pass. When I was 18, I wish someone had told me this (someone who wasn’t mamma), and I wish someone had told me that even though she’ll always turn out to be right in the end, it’s still OK to challenge her in the meantime.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me how young I was. Imbibed with all the new powers—drinking (drinking age in Australia is 18), driving, voting—it’s easy to feel somehow older, but you’re not, you’re still a teenager. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, hold on to your fearless childhood ways for as long as you can and use your new freedoms recklessly. Experiment with these new things you have (but be safe, little brother) and be you in a million different ways, because you don’t have to settle into yourself just yet.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me it’s OK to screw up; that it’s OK to mess up whatever, whenever, in every which way possible. That failing a subject at uni isn’t the end of the world. That backing your car into another when you’re trying to reverse park isn’t so bad. That your failed relationships, both sexual and platonic, are not an indication of the person you are. Little brother, it’s all right if you break something—because I’m going to be here to love you regardless.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me that nothing is precise. What you will learn from books over the next few years of your tertiary education is subjective. You will want to spout platitudes from texts like sermons over dinner and when you’re drunk with your uni buddies. But, little brother, enlightenment is not necessarily in knowledge so much as it is in application. Don’t learn dogmatically from words, but learn to mix them all together to find the shades of grey between them.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me that no one wants to grow up. We all want to ride the merry-go-round, to eat fairy bread at parties and to play duck-duck-goose. It’s OK that you want these things too. You don’t have to become quieter, or more ‘mature’—this means nothing. Little brother, it’s all right to keep some of your childish impulses, to spray your ice cream with so much chocolate sauce it appears more like a mudslide than a sundae. You only live once, hold onto the kid inside.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me that it’s all right to be scared; that everyone is scared. No one knows what they’re doing or why, but they’re doing it just the same, and so should you. There’s no shame in fearing the things you fear, little brother, because we can face them together. When I was 18, I wish someone told me that all there is happiness, and to love the ones around you. So dissolve your fears, little brother, and don’t let them rule you, because we are so very brief, and I want you to always smile inside your heart. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you become, where you work, who you marry (or if you marry at all) or how much money you have—the only, and most important thing to be in life is happy.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me that the older you get, the less you realize you know, and that that’s all that growing up really means. Good luck little brother, because even though I’m eight years your senior, I’m still completely clueless. All I know for sure is that I love you more than I will ever be able to express completely.
AUG. 26, 2011
By KAT GEORGE
Little brother, you and I both are very lucky—we have a mother full of wisdom. When I was 18, I wish someone had told me this: that mother is always right. So I am telling you now: all the things she says and does are with your best interests at heart, and everything she tells you will come to pass. When I was 18, I wish someone had told me this (someone who wasn’t mamma), and I wish someone had told me that even though she’ll always turn out to be right in the end, it’s still OK to challenge her in the meantime.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me how young I was. Imbibed with all the new powers—drinking (drinking age in Australia is 18), driving, voting—it’s easy to feel somehow older, but you’re not, you’re still a teenager. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, hold on to your fearless childhood ways for as long as you can and use your new freedoms recklessly. Experiment with these new things you have (but be safe, little brother) and be you in a million different ways, because you don’t have to settle into yourself just yet.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me it’s OK to screw up; that it’s OK to mess up whatever, whenever, in every which way possible. That failing a subject at uni isn’t the end of the world. That backing your car into another when you’re trying to reverse park isn’t so bad. That your failed relationships, both sexual and platonic, are not an indication of the person you are. Little brother, it’s all right if you break something—because I’m going to be here to love you regardless.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me that nothing is precise. What you will learn from books over the next few years of your tertiary education is subjective. You will want to spout platitudes from texts like sermons over dinner and when you’re drunk with your uni buddies. But, little brother, enlightenment is not necessarily in knowledge so much as it is in application. Don’t learn dogmatically from words, but learn to mix them all together to find the shades of grey between them.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me that no one wants to grow up. We all want to ride the merry-go-round, to eat fairy bread at parties and to play duck-duck-goose. It’s OK that you want these things too. You don’t have to become quieter, or more ‘mature’—this means nothing. Little brother, it’s all right to keep some of your childish impulses, to spray your ice cream with so much chocolate sauce it appears more like a mudslide than a sundae. You only live once, hold onto the kid inside.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me that it’s all right to be scared; that everyone is scared. No one knows what they’re doing or why, but they’re doing it just the same, and so should you. There’s no shame in fearing the things you fear, little brother, because we can face them together. When I was 18, I wish someone told me that all there is happiness, and to love the ones around you. So dissolve your fears, little brother, and don’t let them rule you, because we are so very brief, and I want you to always smile inside your heart. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you become, where you work, who you marry (or if you marry at all) or how much money you have—the only, and most important thing to be in life is happy.
When I was 18, I wish someone had told me that the older you get, the less you realize you know, and that that’s all that growing up really means. Good luck little brother, because even though I’m eight years your senior, I’m still completely clueless. All I know for sure is that I love you more than I will ever be able to express completely.
Friday, August 12, 2011
asdlfamvalmdvalkdvklnasdvlansdlvaknsdvklnacvanc,m,nvaksdvndvcvkadgheroifaehaokdvnaknvnklssd;a;lksdnvdaklnv;anklsvdalnkvsd;lasdvkkl;asdklnv;NXl;oaiwhevcnia;snklv;nVk;akldvahkdl;fadklvcveiovh;adhvlk;asdnva;adkcln;vadkfhvar;j avkl;chvalksd; nadf;oiewhfoahdvasdbkvasdbvalk;sdvblkdsckjkfhefowegbngbsjdipfdfnackaepfogialcladhgaghalsL;ADNCA;SLKDJFAHGAOD;CAFHAFDAaalkdfla;jvonacnal;gjakldssssssssssssga;sdkhasoidciasdklvhklfhahkkahlsddadklshhhhhhhhhadhklssklds...Frustrated
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Anti-Social
I don't really understand the need to be anti-social right now. I guess I'm just tired, and it's causing me disfunction. Whatever, the cause I just have this repulsion to doing anything right now. Yet I can't seem to say no. My desire to please is so powerful, sometimes I wish it wasn't.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Confused Questions
I have such a great situation in life, but why am I so joyless? I have great friends that I love, but why am I so unhappy? I have money, but why don't I feel secure? I have a body that is young and youthful, but why do I feel so old? I have God, but why do I feel so alone? I have personality, but why do relationships feel so one-sided? I don't want to stand out nor do I want to fit in, I just want to be, but why is there so much resistance to that? I wonder if life after college is always this way or if finding a job normally ends these thoughts. I thought living to serve people was all the purpose I'd need, but then the people moved away. Or just aren't as close as before. or just aren't around. or I just can't get hold of them. Whatever the reason that purpose isn't enough, what am I to do? My age thirty-plus friends don't have advice, they say my case is an anomaly. That I'm neither 22 nor 35, just a person caught between to many life stages all at once. I guess that's why I'm confused, all the advice comes from a particular life stage, to transition through it smoothly. But I don't exist in one, I exist in many, and I just can't get a grip. I wonder how long it will take to stop tumbling and gain traction?
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Without Grace
"Grace to put it simply is unconditional love. Grace moves in to accept others as they are, without the condition that they change and with a willingness to engage as far as it is possible."
I need it.
I don't know how to receive it. Without grace, love is so conditional something that must be earned constantly. Sought out with every action, every word. Like an addiction that consumes your sheer thoughts. Without grace, love is the exact opposite, it is un-love. Un-love drives you deeper into self-loathing and hate. Un-love makes you feel worthless and anxious. It makes questions dance tempestuously in your head. "Would you love me if I wasn't striving to meet your expectations and fulfill your needs?" Without grace, you never can feel secure in your relationships, you feel as if at any time the closest people in your life could abandon you if you stop working so hard. Without grace, you can't set boundaries. Love is like a fire, you want it's warmth, but you always get to close and get burned. Without grace, love is a slave driver with no mercy, solitude its own form of punishment. Without grace, a person can never experience real love, the sustaining kind, the kind that brings peace.
I need it.
I don't know how to receive it. Without grace, love is so conditional something that must be earned constantly. Sought out with every action, every word. Like an addiction that consumes your sheer thoughts. Without grace, love is the exact opposite, it is un-love. Un-love drives you deeper into self-loathing and hate. Un-love makes you feel worthless and anxious. It makes questions dance tempestuously in your head. "Would you love me if I wasn't striving to meet your expectations and fulfill your needs?" Without grace, you never can feel secure in your relationships, you feel as if at any time the closest people in your life could abandon you if you stop working so hard. Without grace, you can't set boundaries. Love is like a fire, you want it's warmth, but you always get to close and get burned. Without grace, love is a slave driver with no mercy, solitude its own form of punishment. Without grace, a person can never experience real love, the sustaining kind, the kind that brings peace.
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