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1676387's blog: "On A Serious Note..."

created on 07/12/2009  |  http://fubar.com/on-a-serious-note/b303294  |  3 followers

I don't use this place to blog.

 

I don't really blog, anyway.

But I'm starting to more, lately.

 

You can find me on tumblr. If you have half a brain, you'll guess the URL.

 

My filterless, honest and harshly opinioned account, however... well, that one's harder to find. If you really care to read it, ask. I might share.

I'm reading a book that should be required reading for everyone. Unfortunately, it really can only be read when you're able to accept it, so maybe everyone should be given it when they're born, and they will decide when it's time. I lost some people that meant the world to me, recently, and so I've been hit with the reality that it's time to pick this up. 

 

In any case, I learned something tonight.

I tend to leave relationships. I always do, actually. I just get so bored, and annoyed, and end up disregarding/rejecting them. I mean, is it my fault? Am I flawed? Are they? Are we just not a good match? 

 

"The basic need to fuse with another person so as to transcend the prison of one's separateness is closely realted to another specifically human desire, that to know the "secret of man"."

 

I've always fancied myself a puzzle master. I want to know the depths of man. I want to really know you, your secrets, your being. I know that man is unfathomably deep, the further I dig, the more it eludes me, and so the constant learning and knowing of those depths will keep me feeling connected, forever. I desire to know because I desire to feel permanently woven into the fibers of something. Anything. I'm such a loner by nature.

 

However, the moment I stop loving is when I stop learning, and feel like I know it all. When I have complete power over you, you become a thing, a possession, and so you are no longer intangible. As an object, you're finite, and I reach a depth I perceive as -the- deepest, and get bored. This is when I walk away. When you submit, when you become a pet, and will do what I want, think what I want, I hate you. When you yield yourself, compromise your individuality to become who you think I need, I become a sadist in controlling you, and so I hate myself, and retreat (because we all know I'm the masochist [and hey, even this is explained, now]). When I stop loving, and leave, I loathe you. I hate you for taking away that connection. Whether it's your fault or mine escapes me, the association with loss is with you, therefore it's you I despise.  

 

"With shooting-I'll put it this way- with shooting you only get rid of a chap... With shooting, you'll never get at the soul, to where it is in a fellow and how it shows itself. But I don't spare myself, and I've more than once trampled an enemy for over an hour. You see, I want to get to know what life really is, what life's like down our way."

 

It's an art to dig into someone and yet not rip them open, manipulate them, penetrate their secrets, and destroy them. An art on both ends. On one end, you must tread as a loving student, and not a dominatrix. And, on the other, do not submit, and maintain a sense of self, letting yourself be explored but never manipulated. Neither can be done without the capacity to love. Human nature is cruel. We long to connect, and yet our overwhelming need for knowledge sometimes mutates into a need for power, and so we torture each other. I've tortured plenty. I'm sick of it. So I've become a student, and I'm learning. 

 

The point is, this is shedding some light on my behavior. Why relationships end up the way they do. Romantic interests, friendships, family, all the same. I've been ripping wings off butterflies, and yet I still know nothing of the beautiful creature, really. Knowledge as only by thought is not all there is. This concept has somehow never been explained to me. Eventually, I'll know the heart has a lot of learning to do, and act accordingly. Both knowledge by thought and by love go hand-in-hand, in the end. "I have to know the other person and myself objectively, in order to be able to see his reality, or rather, to overcome the illusions, the irrationally distorted picture I have of him. Only if I know a human being objectively, can I know him in his ultimate essence, in the act of Love."

 

So here we go. Life's short. I've learned all sorts of useless crap in school most of my life. It's about time I teach myself something useful. 

 

"In the act of loving, of giving myself, in the act of penetrating the other person, I find myself, I discover myself, I discover us both, I discover man."

 

 

Warning: The Art of Loving may have the extraordinary effect of making you a better person. 

I've joked about having an abundance of flaws that should be clumped into some sort of warning label before anyone decides to invest any amount of time in me. Some have already run into one or many of them as everyone does after enough time. So for the rest here's the breakdown:

 

I have a really hard time reaching out to people. In any way. Sometimes I don't even know how to hug my own friends when they're falling apart in front of me. My response is always to make a joke of it or just sit there feeling anxious about not knowing how to react. I'm not a toucher, or hugger, and I rarely give out compliments. This is often misread as me not caring which obviously hurts my relationships with friends and partners. I remember my last major boyfriend.. crying, crumbling in front of me.. begging me to hug him. And I just looked at him, conflicted. Something kept me from getting up and doing anything. I was frozen. It's awful. My psychoanalysis of this is an obvious one - my childhood. Surprise! No but really. I grew up in a family where I never saw my parents laugh, hug, kiss, smile... -anything- together. Combine that with my unsuccessful relationships thus far and you might say I'm a little closed off. That's a lie. The major damage was done by my ex fiance. The subsequent little faults of the next few just compounded on an already broken ability to connect. So far.. alcohol is my only fix. Bad news, yeah. Although fresh ocean air, green hills, and a little violin can work wonders, too.  

 

Social interactions are exhausting. Absolutely exhausting. I hole up in my own world after a night out to recharge. The problem is, if I get enough time alone I'll stay there. I drop off the face of the earth often. It's unhealthy. If I am lucky enough to have friends around that drag me out I'll go out night after night, enjoying myself. But after a week or two of this I crash even harder, with the added feeling of guilt from not getting my alone time to work on my personal matters. Finding a balance is one of the hardest things for me at this point. It's either keep busy always, never slowing down, and feeling like I'm not getting what I want done, or doing nothing and watching days go by, unused.

 

I'm so very conflicted - I love indulging in hours of listening to mellow, sinewy, deep music with a bottle of wine and a pen. My heart rate drops, my eyelids follow, I melt into the floor, and my chest heaves with the crawling beats. This is the side of me that gets lost in thought and what if's, the part of me that wants to be destroyed and devastated, that wanders through a tragic fairy tale romance. It's the side of me that loves BDSM and unhealthy relationships. The part of me that loves getting lost on salvia trips and the like. The part that pulls away from sunshine and normal social interactions. But dear god does the crushing feeling feel good. I feel like I'm most myself when I'm like this, but it generally ends in a spiral to depression. There's a craving and searching for things beyond this world. I drown myself with water to fill the emptiness until I'm about to purge it all back again. It's all I can do to distract myself sometimes. And then there's the other side. When I'm not stuck in that other world, I'm a funny person. I like exploring new places with friends, playing games, acting like a housewife, sports, blah blah blah. You know, the normal shit. Laughing life away and talking without regard to what others find to be acceptable conversation for public. I love to dance and sing. Help others. I am or want to be everything a "healthy" person is supposed to be. I forgot who this girl was for a long time. California kills this person in me. And so I didn't really find her again until I moved up to WA again. I think less and act more. But when I'm feeling this way there's always a sense of something lost. Like I'm not actually who I am if I'm ignoring that other part. Life feels more happy, but stereotypically so. Trite. Or something. Certain people can bring this out of me much more than others... Of course, then, I'm attracted to and surround myself with two different types of people. Volatile collisions with those that satiate the first part of me are inevitable, but the highs are... epic. And then the lighter, fun people that can stir the second out of me feels most healthy and keeps me smiling, but it's just.. less fulfilling somehow. Again, balance is the key. Always. But I'm not sure if I can find it in one, or expect to keep bouncing between the two types of people in my life. I'm not sure the two can exist in one person, at least not exactly when I need each certain personality to offset the other.

 

I suppose it's natural to go from all of that to explaining how I eventually push everyone in my life away. I treat people like puzzles.And I'm not one of those people that admires puzzles when they're done. You know, the kind that take the time to glue it together and put it on the wall. No... I revel in having completed it, but when I'm done I rip it apart, put it back in the box, and give it away. I'm trying to learn either to A) Love the big picture or B) Realize people are, in fact, -not- puzzles. Pieces are always missing, warped, or waiting to be found. But so far.. I figure someone out and then move on. Bah. It's frustrating for both parties. And ends up hurting a lot of people. The ones that I can never really figure out how to put together tend to be the ones I keep around longest.

 

Next: I think I'm better than other people sometimes. I didn't think this before, but really, this is the most logical explanation for hating people so often. But when I'm feeling healthy, I remember everyone has their battles. Just because mine are different or my priorities aren't the same doesn't mean my way is better. What is better, anyway? idk, intelligence has nothing to do with survival. Smart people don't live longer. Creativity isn't filtered in favor of through natural selection. All the things I value are personal choices and have no obvious correlation with a grand scheme or ultimate plan. I just.. have a hard time remembering that all the time.

Dear god, I'm a mess. But shut it, you are too.

 

When I love, I love hard. It's just not always obvious. And I expect people to love me as much as I do them. And show it. Which isn't fair, really, because I can't show it myself most of the time. You see why I've decided to be single for a while? Figuring shit out. None of this is unique. Read up on type 5's in the Enneagram, or INTP personalities, and you'll get the whole generic explanation. I'd like to believe it's different because these are my words, but it's not really. This is all for now.

I just... I exist between reality and fantasy, like a dimensional teeter totter, and it's maddening.

So I was trying to take a nap today and lines just rushed through my mind for a return letter to Cal Poly. It's my hope to return next Spring quarter, and I've had trouble finding the right thing to say. So instead of napping it away, I got up and wrote it all out. I like it. But we'll see how I feel tomorrow, eh?

Anyway, I'd like for anyone that cares to take the time to read it, to please offer suggestions, criticism, corrections, etc. This is very important to me, I'd like to get it right.

 

This is the letter I'll be sending the head of the college of Architecture at Cal Poly for consideration. I can return as an Architectural Engineering student but I don't want to. I want to study Architecture. And so this is my case (warning, it's very long):

 

 

I made the right choice in leaving Cal Poly. Not only was I wasting your time and resources, I was wasting mine. If I were to continue to drift through classes and ignore all the benefits and assets provided to me by you I'd never grow. It was not a case of the school being a bad fit for me, as was suggested by my counselor. It was a case of me not being a good fit for the school. And beyond that, I was not a good fit for myself. I needed to take a step back and re-evaluate my choices and priorities, and wake up.

The past couple years have been spent journeying to find myself and how my life fits into the world around me. I've branched out into many various forms of study and work, and have come to better understand my core values. I've traveled and felt the workings of other cultures, to further remove myself from my limited personal perspectives and see the big picture. I've learned to love and reach out to my community, and, upon declaring to make more of an effort to extend myself to better the lives of others, I've lost the most important people to me in my life. Between the excruciating heartaches and trying tests of strength and faith in myself, I've made monumental landmarks in growth and understanding. 

When I left Cal Poly I moved to Washington. I taught myself some skills I'd had interest in but never the time, took up creative jobs, enrolled in some art classes to keep in touch with a classroom environment, and breathed in my surroundings for about a year. Relocating to a place so obviously full of life made it easy to see its value. It's so very green there, and the air so crisp and wet and pure, you can't ignore it. The changing of the seasons was a cycle that helped set me back into motion. I moved there over the waning days of summer. I shed my disappointments and pitfalls from the past years with the leaves of fall, hibernated and recharged, thinking clearly under the quiet of winter's pure blanket of snow, grew from my newly rooted self in the awakening of spring, and took flight back to California, reborn and strong in the warmth of summer.  During the cycle, I stopped taking all medications for depression and anxiety, and was graduated by my psychologist for having found the balance to stand on my own.

My time spent in the San Luis Obispo area was lonely, and often spent sleeping the days away. I didn't appreciated my surroundings, or the valuable resources around me, like learning from others. Not until I left. And now, for the first time in years, I fully appreciate the beauty life has to offer, be it something as obvious as the appeal of the melodic lines of the rolling hills of the Central Coast or something as overlooked as the fascinating intricate details of a miniscule little bug crawling across my desk.

Shortly after I felt I was ready to return to school, that I was matured and ready to take a step forward in my career, I was given a test.

My father passed away unexpectedly last year. He was my best friend, and a beacon for knowledge and support. To lose that light has been the hardest battle that I was never prepared for. He left without a will, and so I dedicated my life this past year to managing his estate. I've tasted what it's like to be many roles:  lawyer, realtor, doctor, business owner, a man in debt, administrator, landlord, brother, father, friend.  This has been the ultimate test of strength. Amidst the heavy pain of loss, I was able to administer his estate, hold down a full time job as a medical office manager, maintain various creative side jobs, and keep focus on my ultimate goal: architecture.

If I were asked to do all I have done recently a couple years ago I wouldn't have been able to handle it. I know now that I am ready to take on the world.  I have a very clear vision of my purpose: communication. The most important value in life I've recognized through my experiences so far is the ability to communicate. You are no one to anyone or anything until you can communicate your ideas and beliefs, or help others communicate theirs. You cannot connect without communication. Architecture is my way to contribute to the world via communication. It weaves together the thoughts and ideas and beliefs of so many people and resources so seamlessly, and shares them with everyone and everything near it. It's beautiful, and meaningful, and directly responds to what I believe most important in life.  To make a career out of it will be most rewarding. I dream in spaces. When I consider the ability to work with others to cooperatively project a vision of beauty and perfect performance, it makes me sick. Nauseated. Feverish. I get the butterflies, and feel like vomiting. It is the strongest love-sickness I've ever felt. I know this is what I will do. 

I've never consciously looked at myself and thought I was a good person, someone a person could learn from. I do now. I'm proud of who I've become, and excited about the prospect of who I will continue to grow to be. I am in charge of my life.

I can't say my horrible performance at Cal Poly was a mistake. I can't say anything was a mistake. It was all deliberate. Everything has been my choice. But it has all brought me on a road back here with a heightened sense of self, a clear mind, and an exceptionally strong work ethic. I have direction because of my misguided steps behind me. However, I do apologize for the time I wasted before. I've written some of my professors to apologize for not performing my best, or contributing to a better learning environment. Their lessons were not lost, though. I still practice based upon their lessons. I look forward to the days when I can learn more from them. I have visited other campuses and researched other programs, and I believe from what I've experienced so far from Cal Poly's resources that it's the best place for me to be. My acceptance into the university was not a mistake, it was just too soon to pay off. I am now a good fit. I'm ready to return to school, if you will accept my sincerest apologies and believe in my ability to succeed with your guidance.

Please find along with this letter some examples of my previous work, and what I've done since I've left. I have polished many of my projects from school, finishing them the way they should have been finished in the first place. I've also been lucky enough to have the chance to have some real experience working with an architect, developers, project designers, and contractors for a new office location for my place of employment. You will find my notes on that project, the Pismo Medical Center, and testimonies from people that have been in direct supervision of my work. Finally, I've kept busy with projects inspired by my surroundings, and would value feedback from professionals if I am given the chance to return.

I would like to suggest, if it is acceptable to you, that I be allowed to return Cal Poly and present this letter of intent, portfolio, and letters of recommendation as my petition to transfer majors from Architectural Engineering to Architecture. I am aware that my previous GPA is not acceptable. I was a poor student. However, if my portfolio and letters are found strong enough, I would like to be let to attend as an Architecture student under the condition that if my GPA were to fall below acceptable again, I will be disqualified from the school, without a probationary warning. Cal Poly made a promise to teach me the skills I will need to succeed, and I'd like to be given the chance to make good on a promise to give you all I have as a student. I will not break that promise.

 

Thank you for your valuable time and consideration,
Leah

 

 

So there it is. Any feedback you have is welcomed :) Sorry, you don't get to see the portfolio and letters just yet.

 

So in cleaning up my computer and deleting old files and pictures (a wonderful trip down memory lane on a peaceful Sunday, I must say), I came across this old conversation. Names edited, of course. But I smirked after I read it and figured I'd share. This is the type of convo I enjoy. Esoteric because we exist on a similar wavelength and don't NEED the extraneous explinations, not because we're trying to be snooty douchers. Make it click like this, if you expect my attention to be kept for very long:


Me: You are always different from you, and always the same. But, internet shit doesn't count.

Him: No, you know me in person. ME. The asshole.

Me: The twitchy contorted hand/face music loving you.

Him: What's different between him and HIM?

Me: You're the same but so am I to the people that matter.

Him: No. You wear sweatpants, and have less than perfect skin, and value knowledge over people. But you make yourself into a sex goddess online. Or others have, and you play along...Hmm...

Me: I have more pictures of me in ugly-faced normality on here. But, you know, people want the other shit.

Him: Yeah. They want Magical Glowing Adjusted Saturation Leah.

Me: "reducenoicereducenoicereducenoicereduceimperfections".

Him: What pisses ME off? Neverseeshitohsnapa-thong!-Leah is 50 million times more dope. You have so much more than a pretty face and nice body. Yet on fu, you milk the physical. Is it the instant gratification? Kampai. *drinks* I dunno. I just feel like I lost the Leah I know.

Me: On fubar. Different places, different faces.

Him: Why?

Me: Mental escapes - varying degrees of vacation

Him: Oh god, are you that fucked, kid?

Me: I unplug from reality. You know this.

Him: You're schitzo, I'm socio, but fuck. I don't fake it, why do you? Hell, even our conversations change once we hit yahoo. What are you avoiding?

Me: I explained, different faces.

Him: Yeah, but it's ME.

Me: I just have fun on fubar, outside the daily me... and I tell people to please talk to me on yahoo if they want ME.

Him: Fubar is Whore Leah, Myspace is Sexy Leah, Facebook is Leah.

Me: Yep. Varying degrees of removal. Look, they're all me's. But, concentrated indulgences via various outlets.

Him: Oh, I dig.

Me: I think fubar... well, I'm not the only one that uses fubar as such. I'd say... Fubar is 20%. Myspace is 50%. Facebook is 75%. Of me. Even RL Leah isn't 100%. I'm not sure where it all is, but that's a different level altogether.

Him: I've noticed.

Me: She's around. Like I said, on different levels. Some people can play there, most can't. -Different level of reality-

-Random bullshitting cut-

Him: Ironic. In a relationship, you have stronger morals than I. In life, you're a monster compared to me. Better not point any fingers. We're both flawed.

Me: Dead on. But the problem is, I see apathy and "meh" as more monstrous than what I do.

Him: And I think you lead people on, and are a cold heartless bitch. Haha, I love the juxtaposition. We're so similar, yet on opposite polarities.

Me: It's not a line, it's a circle. Polarities exist in the same place.

(quantum physics as relationships rant cut out)

Him: You know what's amusing? I've never had to compare astro/quantum physics with a relationship until YOU showed up. Even more amusing? Only you would catch and understand the reference and difference.

Me: Nerds.

Him: (Every architech is an engineer, every engineer is a physisist. Go figure.) You get my dumbness.

Me: And you deal with all my dualities. Hah, I'll quit the physics talk now, promise.

Him: But I like it.

Me: Dancing on strings. One, two, three...

Him: You have no idea how rare it is that I can speak some esoteric nonsense and SOMEONE gets it.

Me: Like old times. Yeah, rare breeds, indeed.

Him: We really are. It's like the same guy smacked us both in the head as children.

Me: God. Hahaha.

That was an evil cackle you should have heard.

Him: I did.

So I was going to talk about my obsession with the deep sea tonight but I got side tracked. I just downloaded a bunch of music featured in Abby's lab on NCIS (love that broad, btw) and it brought me back to some of my... uhhhh... kinkier nights. I thought I'd share. Anyone here ever actually been to a sex club? Apparently Seattle is a pretty prime place for sex-positive culture. Very open, very experimental, and safe. {Side Note, new obsession = Android Lust. Enjoy listening while you read...} I've always had a dark side to me and it most definitely makes itself known in the bedroom. BDSM is what makes me tick. Control. Power struggles. Destroying someone. Being destroyed. All of it is hot. It makes sense with who I am, but I won't get into the psychology of it. That's for another time, maybe. The point is, I met someone that opened my eyes. Took my hand {or say, neck, by leash and collar?} and walked me into one of Seattle's BDSM sex clubs, turning years of fantasizing into a reality. Unreality. It was.. unreal. When I told friends of mine that I had plans to go, they warned me that I'd be watching fat, old, hideous men in leather assless chaps beating young, drugged-up, rejected by their parents, broken girls begging for acceptance from -anyone-. That's how most people think of the scene, I think. Depressed people, acting like freaks in an atmosphere where anything goes, and therefore everyone feels at home. Yeah, not so much. First of all, there's no booze allowed. No drugs. No alcohol, nothing. Consent forms must be signed. People are all clean. So this meant.. I was fucking SOBER. Yeah, like I said, unreal. Anyway, I walked into a dark room full of latex, leather, straps, metal, fishnets, and sweat where everyone greeted me with a smile and spank. It was like a damn cult, everyone was so happy. Industrial music pounded as bodies moved, purposefully about the room. Cages in the corners, tie-down points around the perimeter, private beds in the back, dance floor to the right, and various chaise lounges about the room draped with gorgeous dolls of women and their masters, or slaves, or whatever. And I felt totally at ease. Enough to be stripped down to my garters, bent over a stool, and beat bloody in front of a bunch of strangers. The uh... beds were also... -super- comfy. You know, before my hair was tied to my ankles and my wrists to my ass. It's amazing how many of my friends secretly loved the idea of letting loose at a place like this after I stepped up and spilled to them that I had a fucking blast. I've always been a pretty open person about sexuality and I feel like I've been sort of a stepping stone for my closet freak friends to break out and try something new, too. So yeah, I'd highly recommend taking a night out and letting yourself get torn to pieces in a room full of strangers. Or, you know, destroy something beautiful yourself, if that's what you're into. It's liberating. I drove home at 4am, hardly able to sit from the bruising, and while the sun rose on that 2 hour commute, the world never quite looked so beautiful.

Dear you, and you, and YOU, and future you,

º Please stop calling me right when I finally feel like I've gotten over it all. Yes, you have some mystical telepathic ability to contact me at just the right time to cause me to doubt whether I really am over you, but I assure you I'm not impressed. I promise, I am over you. Finally. 

º No, I will not have your children. You may NOT come find me and "make an honest woman" out of me. You had your chance, and you fucked up. Some of you have had multiple chances and never failed to ruin each and every one of them. Getting yourself out of jail and getting a job are not incentives for me to pop out a few of your offspring, sorry. 

º Stop giving me rings. I already have a few from you, and you, and you, thank you. If I get one more ring backed with empty promises I'm going to hunt you all down and force feed them to you. Choke on it, you lying, cheating, co-dependent excuses for men. 

º Do not tell me how much you miss me and love me and then call me heartless for not saying "me too". It's just a little too inconvenient that you tend to only express such emotions when I've had enough and walked away.  You always miss me when I'm gone, but you never treat me with enough respect when I'm around to stay. Integrity - get some. 

º The pictures you keep sending me of us aren't going to spark any old flame, or make me reconsider things. You see that pissed off expression and broken-down, beaten look in my eyes? Why do you think sending me a picture of that is going to do you any good? I mean really, you moron. 

º Five paged letters about how you dropped the rest of your girlfriends to focus your time on me and validate our relationship after I told you we were nothing more than casual friends having a good time are a little dramatic. Go cry to your wife about it.

º When you see my car in a parking lot, don't wait around for me to return. It's creepy, and borderline stalker-ish. I don't want a hug. Not yours, anyway. And I'm not buying the "oh, I just got dropped off here... to run some errands...". 

º I don't care how boring and clingy your new girlfriend is. Ripping on someone (you claim to love) behind their back doesn't make you a respectable person, and bitching about your self-imposed dissatisfactions aren't going to get you laid. You're not as cunning, clever, or intelligent as you think you are. You're a lazy fuck with no job and no future. There's a reason why I asked you to leave. 

º No, I don't have your books. I have no idea where your PS games are. I donated the clothing you left and have no intention on digging around to find that piece of paper with that "genius" idea you wrote down that one time I was cooking your breakfast and you were staring at my fish. You had ample time to get your things. I'm not your maid, chauffeur, or assistant (anymore).

 

» A message to all: we had our time, and that time has passed. I loved you all, but it didn't work out. Move on. Leave me be. Don't blame me for your problems. Quit living in circles. Move your feet, walk forward, and make a life for yourself that doesn't revolve around someone else. No one is going to save you, or fix you, or make your decisions for you. Recognize when someone loves you and your flaws and appreciate it. Let them go when you know it's run its course and there's nothing left. Think for yourselves, live for yourselves, and share it with those you love. LOVE yourself. You don't respect who you are? How do you expect anyone else to? 

 

Love{d},

Leah Alissa

 

(I've spent enough time alone now, understanding myself, recognizing parts in others I admire and despise, to hope I know better than to invest too much time in someone that would add to this list. Here's hoping next time around is better than the last)

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