saml

November 2007 - Posts

  • Preface to a creepy set of poems

    Now that I am a critically acclaimed award winning author- I’ve decided to try my hand at poetry. It’s something I have attempted in the past with some half decent results but I could never resist temptation to rhyme. Rhyming is so pretty, you know? But I did more or less avoid it this time and I think these two are pretty kick-ass if I do say so myself. I am warning you though- they’re pretty deep and intense. I tend to be really analytical especially when it comes to the psychological structure of man - a learned habit from all the therapy- I guess. (Wow, that makes me sound hardcore f’d up) Anywho, these poems are inspired by the nature of thought, by my own cosmic conclusions, and by a person… a person I feel the need to address. So, if your pretty sure that these poems (The latter more so, than the first) have nothing to do with you, you can skip the rest of the preface if you want. And yes I am self-centered enough to believe you will one-day read this and I’m pretty sure when you do, which is right now, (G-d I love that whole concept) you’ll recognize who I’m speaking to…

     

    It’s funny because I was going to pretend that I wasn’t actually trying to talk to you through this semi- anonymous social network that is the World Wide Web. But then I thought to myself- why pretend? It doesn’t matter- what am I risking? If you read it, you read it, if you don’t, you don’t and I will never know. Sure it’s a little creepy to try and get your attention this way but it’s not like I’m really trying… I promise, I get it, we’re not friends…blah, blah, blah… move on Sam…If you do read this though, I don’t want to leave you any room to misinterpret. I don’t trust your interpretations about human intention because you resent us (and by us, I mean man-kind) for being selfish animals. How do live with yourself if you loathe yourself? I’m sorry… none of my business… back to me… So I just want you to know that the latter poem is about you or at the very least, people like you. But it’s not for you- it’s for me. I don’t want you to think that I’m a weird, creepy, stalker of a person who is trying to win your heart through poetry over the internet (as if poetry didn’t already scream over-obsessed). It’s just writing is very therapeutic for me and it is how I dealt and continue to deal with overcoming the sadness that this situation brought me. I’m only sharing it with the world because A. It doesn’t feel like the world, as far as I’m concerned it’s just me and my shitty laptop. And B. I think these poems are pretty kick-ass. But I’m not going to pretend that I don’t miss you sometimes. It would be dishonest of me if I continued to let myself sound so detached. Rationally, I know that it is best for me to stay away from you. You are committed to unlocking the external truths of this world and I, to unlocking the internal ones. (Vague, I know- but I think you get it) Still, I liked your company and rational or not- this situation kinda sucks for me.

    On that note:

     

    The Nature of Self-Deception

     To the one who believes

    He or she bares the burden of the truth

    Amidst an age of intellectual anarchyTo the one who believes

    That he or she

    Is above the meaningless repressions of society

    When In actuality

    You are as wrong as you are sure

    For there are many vacillating truths

    To believe in only one;

    To discredit the others

    Is in itself, the act of repression

    The very opposite of your prized truth…

    ­-         Samantha L ( I’m not allowed to disclose my full name)   

    The Paradox of External Truth

     Half believing

    You are striving toward

    Slowing man kinds’ inevitable extinction

    You are in fact consuming yourself

    With escaping your own 

    You have selfish motives

    You are only human

    And only humans have repressions that drive them

    To a state of inescapable sorrow… 

    You may say

    Only a feeling

    But trust me- it is a crippling one

    A physically crippling one 

    I am but one casualty in your internal battle;  

    One I take comfort in believing you will someday mourn

    But there will be others like me

    Better and worse 

    Rectify yourself Señor

     Don’t be afraid to loose your purpose

    In the absence of rigid philosophy

    Don’t be scared to digress into the feudalisms of man

    You will always be purpose driven

    And you will always thirst for knowledge

    These qualities are your belongings

    So you must test their resilience

    Do not shelter them

    And do not over-nurture

    Ask yourself what it is you yearn for

    You’ve come too far

    You’re far too young

    Slow Self Deception

    Do not succumb

     Do   Not   Succumb 

    -         Samantha L

  • Dear Thrilling and Terrifying Public diary,

     

    Sorry- still can’t get over that whole concept. Although I will admit it’s a little bizarre to write dear diary- I think part of me needs to believe this is private to really be honest. Or maybe part of me just wants to burst my giant bubble of an ego for being self-centered enough to believe these entries aren’t basically private anyway…. Well… ok… back to reality… I think I’ll just make each heading

    Dear shitty laptop and whoever else gives a ***, There, I like that, it’s honest. Not too self important- not to condescending, and it makes me sound like a bad-ass. And yes, unfortunately being scene as a bad ass is still important to me. However less, there are still potent remnants of my trusty self-destructive adolescent rebellion. Each year though, they manifest themselves to a lesser and lesser degree- sort of… I think I’m at the age (coming up on my 18th birthday now) and I’ve put myself through enough bullshit to finally call the self-destruction quits. I don’t know- it’s not easy. It’s seems every human has some secret self-destructive habit, a bad-ass outlet if you will. I wonder if I can be content to make mine writing blogs on the internet. I hope so, because I am at the stage in my life where I really need to take good care of myself to stay sane. I really can’t afford the paradoxical luxury of teenage bullshit anymore. My readers (Translation: My shitty laptop) should know that I took some time off from college to pull myself together. It doesn’t feel great… I don’t know; to one day be the heroin who overcame the obstacles and the next the under-achiever who just couldn’t stay afloat… It’s hard… accepting it is hard and believing in myself after this setback is hard too. I don’t know- I just wanted to put that out there. It just occurred to me that I should not assume that you, yes You (still creepy), have already read my essay. I just wanted to update the eager world on the mental stability of Sam L today. I’m copying and pasting my little speech to Amy- It pretty much sums it up. O and Sorry for the train wreck of a blog that first submission was but I’m not going to lie, it was pretty true to my character.

    I shall call this speech "The Post-Drama" 

    In a lot of ways I have disowned the romanticism and over-drama I felt when I wrote this piece. I really believed I would never escape that part of my past; that it would always be such a big part of how I think and feel. It was so huge to me once and then time just passed and things became more important... but lately... I've been having a really really rough time.

    Amy, I'm so sorry I've been so detached from this process. I know it's no excuse, but it's in my nature to disown everything that isn't happening right in front of me. I'm so numb so much of the time which is ironic because I devote my complete attention to each waking moment expecting to really feel. Does any of this make sense? It's relevant to what I'm about to tell you- I swear.

    When I was 13 and 14, I devoted myself to a life of sex, drugs, and rock and roll to the best of my ability. Nothing existed to me but the present moments. My only goals were to get high and to numb the sobering voids- the ones where reality would sometimes force its way into my conscious and the shame, loneliness, and guilt would begin to float ashore. As you know, there was a particular instance in my past that left my parents no choice but to send me far away from the world I had come to know. I think I can comprehend for the first time, how much that saved my life.

    After the wilderness program I spent my sophomore year in a rehabilitation center. There I learned to value myself enough to believe that I was worth a future. I understood for the first time, what a disservice it would be to myself and perhaps to others, if I wasted my potential for the sake of numbing pain. But unfortunately, over the years, I put those key life lessons on the back-burner and preoccupied my thoughts with the alienation I felt from my peers, the desire to be loved, and the desire to feel good.

    At first it was ok. Junior year I decided to live with those pains because the guilt that I knew would come at the thought of relapse was just unbearable. I had been brain-washed in the way that I had practiced thinking that drugs, sex, and alcohol were bad so often that I was able to believe it for a while. I had practiced thinking that my future was important and so I had temporarily internalized that. Though productive, that year was very painful for me. I was caught up in resentment toward my parents for sending me away, toward rehab for turning me into a very confused and bitter loser, and toward my peers- for not showing any compassion. - That's what I miss most about rehab- the deep compassion everybody had for each other due to this one central understanding; that all issues, whether they appear big or small, ellicit some kind of emotion, and those emotions ellicit reactions. We have no right to judge others based on the way they choose to armor thier childhood pain. We can only sympathize and try to help- The real world is far less tactful and understanding. Everyone is so caught up in the lies they tell themselves that they don't have the energy to try and penetrate through anyone else's.

     That’s fair- I guess. There is a lot of truth in the idea that one should not sacrifice their priorities to take on the emotional burdens of others. But maybe it's not about being selfless? I have learned in the last few weeks that ones priorities should include taking care of one's own mental health to some extent, which is not possible with out listening and being listened to. Mental stability involves pursuing emotional support but the key is pursuing it with out relying on it. That’s where I have room for improvement.

    I know it will always be important to me to understand and support the people around me and as I get older I find a few lovable people who share those same values. But after my 1st college application went in sometime last November, I have foolishly devoted all my time to trying to feel "good". Yes, there was a series of relapse in behavior.  I allowed myself to *** around, rationalizing that I had nothing more important to do and that my intentions were different this time. After all I had been in rehab for a year, if there is any inescapable learned skill imposed there, its self awareness. But what I did not realize at the time and still need to comprehend is that it's not so much about moment-to-moment self-awareness. To know that you are making an impulsive decision and to make it anyway doesn't really do ***. It's about being aware and staying aware of the fundamental truths in the world; that instant gratification goes as easily as it comes, and that delayed gratification, hard work, has real and long-lasting benefits. I'm so grateful to have the opportunity to comprehend that.

     One very sad teenage girl wrote a little memoir once. She developed a passion for expressing herself through writing and worked hard to discover a pretty and true way of communicating. And two years later, at a time when she is more lost and unstable then ever and thanks to rehab is acutely aware of it, her hard work pays off tenfold. I am a fucking published author!!!!! G-d, that feels gratifying. And yes, in case anyone needs reassurance, it feels more gratifying then the glamour of active teenage rebellion, more gratifying then the altered sensations of drugs, and sorry boys- but more gratifying than any males attention.

    I’m in a really good place right now mentally, but unfortunately my surroundings don’t exactly reflect that. The sad truth about school for me right now is that if I work my ass off in the three classes I’m taking, I can maybe achieve Cs. It’s ironic because it’s not like I spent the last few months engaging in any horribly self-destructive behavior. To use the lingo I obtained in rehab; it was the relapse in behavior that led to the diminishing value of self, which in-turn lead to the relapse in thinking errors and unproductive priorities. To put it more simply, I started adolescence adopting the o so cliché philosophy; live free and die young. I then moved on to believe whole heartedly in the pursuit of happiness. But I’m older now and I think I’m mature enough for a much less vague self-definition. I haven’t actually developed one yet. I need some time to toil with word choice but don't worry it’s in the works…

     

    Ok- So I'm a little bit of a lier- I am not quite as mentally stable as I claim to be in this speech. But I know I can get there- I am getting there. Um... Why am I writitng this? O yeah- because I can. I do feel better to get it out there... all though some words of encouragement might be nice... hint hint...;)

     

  • I am so confused... but I'm loving the spellcheck

    Otay...Here goes nothin'. My first ever blog entry.... O so much to get off my ripe adolescent chest. Ooo I'm such a perve- Sorry I was channeling Nabakov (Yeah, that's right, I can read as well). Maybe I should wait a couple Of blogs before I reveal what a head case I really am. Mmmm... Anywho, I hope I'm doing this whole blog thing right. Where to begin? Where to begin? ***…my… (Tenacious -D, anyone?) Who am I kidding? I've got mother fucking (again I hope we can curse, if not, dreadfully sorry Amy, I just love it so much... part of my charm? Haha haha. I digress- By the way Sarah Harrison; I never got to tell you how much I loved your essay mostly because of how wildly insecure it made me... I hate those girls... I am that girl. It was so smart though, I'll tell you in person) miles worth of material I could copy and paste right now...You know what I'll save it until the next blog... I feel too awkward to say it right this second... I'm less insane when I get sleep- I swear

    (O and, when I say again, I'm referring to things i said in my bio, yeah... I suck at these things, you know what I'll copy and paste my bio... ok..)

    Ahhh... Ok I suck at these personal bio sites. I sware to G-d it took me like a Freaking (are we allowed to curse? Anyone know? I hope so, cursing is fun!! Anyway...) year to figure out how to work facebook. I got the hang of it though- kind of... Anywho, Im really excited about this fancey blog thingy. I'll tell you, at first I was a little skeptical. I thought it was all self important to write about yourself all the time expecting other people to give a ***... I don't know, I figure I talk about myself eneogh, I might as well write about myself. This way if you don't give a *** you don't have to read it. So simple. And I get to talk about myself as much as I want because it's my freaking blog. Yeah, thats right. Who the *** am I talking to? No one. And yet anyone and everyone. Sorry it boggles my mind. And I'm writing as if I'm talking to someone... But noone is here...Hello? Helllooo-ooo? Ok, now might be a good time to admit that I am horribley sleep deprived... I get a little slap happy to say the least. Plus I get too lazy to check my spelling. Ok, thats a lie, even when I'm wide awake I can't spell for ***. Thats why G-d invented Spellcheck. Have I said eneogh about myself yet to qualify this as a lagit. personal bio? O, one more thing. You, and by you, I mean YOU reading this right now, (ahhh so creepy) you should know that I never had a blog before. I've had diaries and the like... but no ones ever read them. I mean, not to say I din't secretly write my enteries for an audience because I did. In fact deep in the very depths of my jewish soal- I wished someone cared eneogh, or found me intriguing enough to steal my diary and read them. (It sounds sad, but I wouldn't put myslef all out there if I din't think most people would relate, so stop being so judgemental, G-d!- FYI- This is what therapists label as being "defensive"; masking our insecurities with hostility anyway...) I'm really not all that sure how I am going to feel when I get my wish. I'm rather frightened. But I do have a comitment to myself and to my writerly morals to try and be as honest as my superego will allow. I do have a loooooooooooooooot to say- as do most people in this world. It is both my hope and my greatest fear (cue the music) that someone takes the time to listen, really listen, and... No, but seriously- I really think it would be awsome to talk to someone who volunteers to listen.O, and here is another awful Dorky confession. Once I decided to do this blog, i couldn't stop jotting down material, I litterly have pages and pages of handwritten entries to post. You can call me a dweeb,that's fine, but you should know that once apon a time this dweeb was pretty badass...

     

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