Energizer Bunny

I love creative people. People with energy, people whose life is always full of ideas. Maybe because I feel sometimes I could use more of these qualities. I get tired of people who never have anything new to say, who never surprise me with anything, whom I feel I know inside out after I talk to them for an hour or two... Am I a bad person for saying that? I see myself as having qualities of a rechargeable battery sometimes or a sponge, if somebody prefers. I need to have a certain type of people around me to get my lazy self going. I need their passion, energy, and desires to stimulate me, inspire me. I get influenced by such people easily, and it is dangerous, I know. Sometimes the kinds of energy I absorb can be destructive. I should look for energy deposits in myself and not drain it off of other people... But this is the reason why I cannot be around people who sap others even more than I do.

A couple of weeks ago my husband and I went to visit a couple of my husband's friends. They wanted us to come together for so long, and my poor husband, having predicted the outcome, tried to avoid it for so long that finally we ran out of any excuses. They had their neighbors over. It was a true, horrifying, brainwashing nightmare. I don't even know were to start - with the show they were glued to, with the lack of any interaction except a few dumb comments to the dumbest show on the Earth, with the amount of drinking that did not help to kill the morbid atmosphere? I felt that if we had spent a couple more hours there we would have turned into zombies and eaten their fucking pea sized brains up! I'm sorry, I needed to get it out. I feel both better and worse now. I shouldn't say things like these. I should be tolerant, open, and humanity loving. I have nothing against these people. I wish them all the best; I'm sure they are model citizens, good neighbors, perfectly harmless people. I'm sure that in many ways they are better people than I am. But God, please, do not make me spend time with them again!

As for my husband's friends... well, it's not going to last, just like my husband insightfully predicted. After a few get-togethers I know even too much about them. Shallow deposits, easily depleted... Oh, I cannot believe I'm saying that, I feel so bad, I still have these "what's appropriate to say" restraints stubbornly residing in me, which probably is a good thing. We cannot just go rambling about anything we want and any way we want, for God's sake! Some decency, please...

I think that for some unimaginable reason God loves me. I've been so bad but He keeps sending me these wonderful people at the crucial moments in my life to save me from myself. I've got an unfortunate tendency to throw myself in situations and get influenced by people who side track me a bit from time to time. First, my husband, who has never bored me since I met him so many years ago. I can say a lot about him, I can say he drives me crazy and brings me to the edge on regular basis, I can say I've been contemplating a murderous scheme against him not once already, I can say he is the stubbornness man I know, and so on and on and on... But I cannot say he is boring. It took a while for him to disclose all the sides to him, some of which I forced out of him in the most unfortunate circumstances in my typically subtle and error free manner, but when he did... Let's say I've got a wash-and-go deal, Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader in one! Aren't I lucky! Now we have an ongoing contest - "who's crazier in our house?"

Let's see... oh, yes. More lifesaving people. Not counting one amazing priest and several inspiring teachers and professors, I'll probably get to them at some point in this blog, I would say I have had three true friends in my life. Some people would say it's really not many, nothing to be proud of. I feel it is a lot. Two of them belong to my past now and although I miss them I know that what we experienced together had its time and place and just ran its course for now for several reasons. I have somebody else now in my life and I have to admit I still cannot believe how lucky I am. To have somebody by your side who understands you without words, who accepts you with all your craziness and moodiness and whatever else, who is ready to support you and be there for you although you often have nothing to offer in exchange... this is extraordinary. Thank you for your energy and passion, my friend. You show me roads I wouldn't see myself and give me courage I would never be able to muster alone. I don't deserve it. I'm positive I don't deserve. I hope I don't mess this one up...

Back to where we started. We see all those successful musicians, writers, painters, photographers, actors, passionate thinkers who change the world, and whoever else you want to add here, and we think "oh, if only I had a chance like this", or "I'd like to be in their place." If you think it comes to them easily, that they succeed in life out of luck or this amazing talent only, I think you should think again. Of course you need these two things but most importantly you need to persevere, against everything and everybody sometimes, you need to work hard, often harder than you think you can take, and you need to sacrifice so much... Sure, some of them got where they are because of some lucky coincidence but I believe if it's just that then they go down pretty fast. These that stay, and continue, and grow are whom I admire. To be given a chance is one thing, to be able to use it is another. This is the true test of greatness. The depth and richness such people possess takes my breath away. Just being talented is not enough. This is not to say that I despise people who lack the ability to make it even if they are gifted in some way. I feel sad for them. I feel sad for the world that misses so much because for some reason, at this point in time and space, these people just cannot make things work.

Academic struggles

I'd like to describe one very interesting feeling I've been experiencing lately. That of being an ignorant. Some explanation is in order. My field of study has for a long time been Linguistics. I got comfortable with it, felt safe and at home in my classes. Never experienced much difficulty grasping concepts, following the lectures, or doing my assignments. In fact, I was quite successful in all of that. Last semester my professor asked me to be his research assistant to help him prepare a project proposal to National Science Foundation. I've never learnt as much and as fast in one semester than working closely with this professor and his colleague. But it's old news now. It was good old sociolinguistics... Now I can fully understand the feelings of some students in my linguistics classes (especially Pragmatics and Semantics) with the "what the fuck is going on here?!" look on their faces... I think being able to be compassionate is generally a useful attribute that all people should possess so I should be grateful for this opportunity to learn some of it.

Why has it happened that I got so engrossed in one, however broad, field of study that I successfully managed to block the rest of the world from entering my mind? Is it normal that you channel your brain to receive only a limited range of frequencies and ignore the rest? Is it at all possible to absorb this enormous amount of information that seems to flow our way every day? I guess we need to filter it as we'd get brainwashed trying to retain too much.

My anthropology professor gave me a clue on how to solve my predicament. I should use my "linguistic" way of thinking and apply it to study Anthropology. Is it that simple? What about the missing knowledge, names he's throwing at us, half of which I have never heard in my life, terms that we should be able to define and apply, symbols and connections that we're supposed to see? Can I figure it all out? It's all as if enveloped in a thick fog for me, escapes so easily, no clear answers given, makes me feel insecure. I hate feeling there is something I missed, all the time.

You can catch up on some bits on information you missed, you can read, study, even memorize if you like (I don't...), but if you don't start to think about what you're trying to achieve here you'll never get the full picture, full and meaningful comprehension. You need to construct your understanding yourself. As hard as that can be sometimes. Nevertheless, I still feel that I need to reprogram my brain before I start reading these ethnographies again...

Soulful animal

My Archaeology professor asked an interesting question in class a few weeks ago - "If you had a choice, wouldn't you choose a religion with a heaven where you fuck forever rather than one with a threat of hell?" He got quite excited about the issue as the whole class did, with one or two exceptions, and we indulged ourselves in a few moments of contemplation of this image. Before anybody had a chance to declare their readiness to welcome this new religion in their lives he continued with the main topic of the class - introductory remarks on natural selection as well as biological, social, and cultural forces governing our increasing multiplication power. I think the real point of the lecture got lost on many of the listeners after that vivid digression. Nothing seems to work some people up more than a sexual remark. Some or most?

Some of us try to be so civilized and sophisticated, detached from this untamed part of human existence. They would get offended if anything even just suggesting sexuality got addressed to them. We fight it (or just the opposite), we obsess about it, build myths around it, put limits on it, create conventions to follow, get sick and twisted, fear it, love it, hate it, enjoy it... Sometimes you'd think "this is it, this is the driving force and the sense of our whole miserable existence here!" I'm not even going to try to comment on this revelation. Whatever I'd say would probably be wrong. Say it's true you're a simple-minded, detestable ignorant. Say that it's wrong, that there is so much more to life, so many higher, more beautiful feelings in people, there are emotions, compassion, intellect... then you may be labelled a romantic fool, an intellectual in denial, or I don't know what else.

We love debating on topics like this, finding arguments for and against, fighting to death for what we stated at the beginning even if our faith in what we're saying is growing weaker and weaker along the way. "Black and white" thinking people, face it: there are many shades of truth to everything. I know it blows your mind. I know you feel scared and an overwhelming desire to go to your safe place hits you with unusual force right now. I know, and I'm sorry for you. Just think for a while, we are animals with souls. This is the most unfortunate mix. I believe we all feel it quite often when we walk our sophisticated selves, perfectly composed, with a smile glued on our faces, while our inside is twisting in agony and pounding the skull yelling "Let me out, let me the fuck out!" Or maybe it's just me.... oops...

We are supposed to know the difference between right and wrong, good and bad... But then, we have the dichotomy again. I've made mistakes in my life. I have memories I wish I didn't have (am I quoting somebody here? Oh, yes, I remember now... never mind...). We learn the distinction between right and wrong so many times and still get stunned by our inability to choose well, decide what's best, on numerous occasions. There is no universal answer to every situation we encounter. We learn the hard way. Fall, recover, go on, fall, recover, go on... What we manage to learn between the falls is a very individual matter. Sometimes nothing, sometimes barely enough, sometimes so much that we hate to see it.

START

I want to say that I'm not completely sure what I'll be writing here. I think I may use it to put down what consumes my mind, what drives me crazy, my responses to what happens to me and to people around me. If anybody ever happens to read it and finds it at least close to intriguing or thought provoking or even just interesting that's great. If not, well, I'll just keep going to remind myself that I'm not dead yet... Or maybe to get to know myself a little better. That's the more optimistic version.

Anyway, I suspect I'll find it difficult to write regularly, there may be times when I'll write nothing for two months, and then write everyday. Life's hectic sometimes. Or I'll decide that it's all pointless and why the hell I ever believed my thoughts are worth taking up the virtual space. Pathetic!

I think it may be important to add that English is not my native language so I may sound funny sometimes. You may call it my idiosyncratic style if you want to be nice. I doubt anybody will read it anyway. Unless I force them to... We all seem to be more and more busy, kicking our butts with our own feet, get going, get going, get going... How do you find time to read these days? I would definitely choose to read a good book instead of some pitiful attempts to record the mundane details of somebody's life or even worse, the meanders of a sick mind. I would love to hear an explanation for why I'm really starting this. Venting? Psychotherapy? I'm questioning myself at the very beginning. That's not a good prognosis for the whole endeavor. I'll end this post with a little piece of poetry I wrote in 2006. Not much has changed since that time in the way I feel.



Life Time

I want peace for my heart and
excitement for my mind.
I want God for my soul and
passion for my body.

I want to be left alone but then
I miss those that are gone.
I want to stop thinking, seeing,
remembering, hearing, stop feeling.

I want to stop dealing, coping,
stop just getting by and
I want to stop doing the best I can…
but then will I be visible, real, or

will I disintegrate, disappear, die?
Do I want to exist, still?
Is it contradictory?
Do I want so much or so little?


I want my eyes to wander without
hitting walls – wooden walls, cement
walls, steel walls. I am spinning around
looking for an opening but there is

none. I am crushing, I am suffocating,
I cannot see, I cannot be…
I want to lie down on the grass and
feel, feel the ground and the sky.

I want them to unite through my body,
conceive me anew in their rhythms
and vibrations, then give birth to me.
I hear myself scream, I feel myself

tremble. What am I crying over, how
painful is it to break free of yourself?
I want to breathe, just breathe
for now.


I want to find out who I am.
I want to get rid of all the superficial
baggage I have collected along
the way, all the faces

I have tried on, all the dirt
that has stuck to my feet.
I want to stay pure, pure like
the beginning of life but…

I have been spoiled by civilization.
I have inhaled the destructive
fumes of man-made inventions.
I have been caught in the enticing

claws of man-made ideas.
I have been told I need to develop
all of my talents. So little time, feeling so inept…
But …I have to write and teach, research and guide,


I have to raise children. Or else I’ll be
nothing. I am being a whole, confident, and
dependable person. I am having
ambitions, aims, plans. Look how

well I can hide my wounds,
what a strong and useful person
I have become. Aren’t you proud of me?
I have been shaped to believe, believe that

I have to use my time wisely to get it all.
I have so much to do, achieve, prove…or else
I will be nobody. No life. No me.
I have allowed myself to be dragged into the

time race of our kind. Time. Save time, buy
time, spend time, waste time, I am pressed for
time, there is so little time, I have no
time left, time flies, time’s up!