Undone

So, i’ve been working on my cover letter/ artists letter for my Creative writing class. It’s really odd. I can’t think clearly enough to write something very coherent.

So you get to read it, and tell me, is it coherent enough to give to my teacher?

Oh, Btw…. if you’ve never read my writing. I’m sorry. Go here and then you’ll know what i’m talking about. Hee.

“Writing is like sex. First you do it for love, then you do it for your friends, and then you do it for money.” Virginia Woolfe

“Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank… Without passion, we’d be truly dead.” –Angel, Passion

I write. It is my passion and my pride. I don’t do it for anyone else but me, so I guess that’s what made this class challenging. It was easy to please my audience before, because my audience was me, and I felt the sheer relief of just writing, and I was happy. I admit, most of my writing is no where near worth publishing. That’s okay. I write for love. I’ve tried writing for others, being commissioned, but it just doesn’t work that way. Not for me. Not yet. I write free and open, and I don’t care what I say or how I say it. I feel power in the obscene images I present. I love being honest and bare.

When it comes to writing, I suppose I’m a nudist. I love the bare bones of writing. I love to dissect sentences. I love to be candid and honest. I love broken images. I love hearing someone who has just read my piece say “What was that about?” Maybe it’s some sort of power kick. I like how I can make someone think; how each piece is something entirely different to each person. I know what each piece means, what it’s about, but I get a high off of hearing what people interpret it into. I feel power in writing vague. I love it. I love writing. I love pressing the pen down to the paper until it bleeds ink. Why I do it, the way I do it. Passion rules me… Rules my writing. Without it — it would be empty and lifeless.

Derringer Meryl [Discovering the Joy of waiting] Out

I went to school today, and actually got something worthwhile accomplished too. I have all of the cards that we (Scott and I) got from Bed Bath and Beyond filled out with our names on it. (His first, since that’s how we’re registered) and I only messed up once! I’m really proud to say that’s done and out of the way.

Our invites are mocked up. THey need a few finishing touches to be complete, but we’re getting really close. I got my session for the temple scheduled (wahoo) for the Fourth of June. I’m sorta nervous about this. It feels like …

wham!

and i’m a grown up. I mean, I’m getting all these grown up things to worry and think about. An apartment, a GOOD job (lets face it, you know it, i know it, Gamestop sucks monkey butt) and it’s just something i’ve been thinking a lot about lately. That and school. Scott says it’ll be a while until i get to go back to school. I think it’s fine. I think some time away from school will help me appreciate it. Right now, I dont’ know what i want to do. I think it’s a waste of money that i’m going– because it’s not going towards anything. Not general education or anything. Just random classes that sounded good. :S The thing is (I know Scott’ll try to contest this, and maybe The Specialist) I’m not good at anything. I mean, i can’t remember ONE time in my whole life that The Specialist wasn’t insanely brilliant. I mean, he’s always known stuff, always been a really good speaker, very eloquent, and a good speller (I remember him winning the spelling bee, one of my first memories) He’s just always been smart. Always. Sure, everyone messes up, or is wrong sometimes, but he’s always been brilliant.

The thing behind it, I think, is passion (I happen to be insane about passion at the moment, and the lack there of) The Specialist has this passion for computers. He loves it. He loves knowing things about them. He knows so much about them, that I think my brain might explode just trying to comprehend how much he knows…. Scott has the same thing. He knows stuff about computers. He knows which processors do what. He loves knowing stuff about computers. Loves knowing stuff that other people don’t. I don’t have that. I don’t have the passion to learn. I remember the one thing that I used to be passionate about learning about was Mythology, but It got to the point where I couldn’t focus anymore. It just kinda went away. I know SOME stuff about computers, but just enough to make an old person feel stupid (with the exception of my mom, who I swear has now surpassed me in computer knowledge.) I love to write. I’m passionate about my writing…. but that’s not something you can get a grown up job with. Not really. I mean, I could pull a JK Rowling and write something amazing on coffee napkin, but in the end, I’ll probably end up more like Emily Dickinson, who wrote her whole life, but no one liked it until she was dead… (Makes me kinda wish I was dead sometimes… in a non suicidal way.)

I’m passionate (or maybe anal is a better word) about being neat. Looking at my computer desk and bedroom, you’d think i was a big fat liar. But if you take a look into my filing cabinet you’ll see that all my essays from my AP American History class are in order with a front sheet saying what grade I got on each, what the essay prompt was, and then the average for the scores. (adding all the scores up, dividing them by the number of scores…etc) I did it for my English Class too. I love doing that.

Is there a job like that? Where you take things and organize them? I love putting things in order. THe thing is, with my room, not everything can be alphabetized and put in order, so that’s why it’s running amuck. But my magazines are in groups of fashion and gaming (what an odd combo, right?) and then the magazine title Specifically (and alphabetically) then by date issued. 🙂 I’m a freak. I know. I love it. I love that.

Seriously….. Is there a job where you just clean and organize like that?

Derringer Meryl [Finding her Passion] Out

All sorts of icky acidy goodness filling my stomach.

I’m tired of my job. I mean, I love my job. I’m tired of never working. I haven’t worked since the third of April. That’s sixteen days, and only three of those days I’m unable to work. Okay, Five, if you count tuesdays.

ALL THE SAME. I have a paycheck i’m getting now that is going to be nothing. as in NO money. I feel like pulling my hair out. I hate not working. I hate not having a job, i feel useless and like I’m a mooch. No one ever says it to me, but I do. I feel like a mooch and I”m feeding off of other people. Especially Scott. I feel like I’m really coasting off of his paycheck, and i know it puts a lot of stress on him. Or at least I feel like I put a lot of stress on him. I’m exhausted from feeling like i’m living in two places.

and helpless and insane. I don’t know how to do anything. I don’t know how to pick out a good apartment, I don’t know how to cook very well. i apparently can’t write (according to my teacher) I like to vaccum in skirts, and I bite the skin on the inside of my cheeks. I don’t own a car, I wish I did. I dont’ know how to do anything well enough to make a job of it, with the psycho exception of the alphabet. I know the alphabet, and I know it well enough to be paid an amazingly low amount to put disgusting germy games back in order for four hours a week. No one cares.

and I just sit back and let bad things, like this damn work insanity, happen to me because i have this brain impairment that makes me think “I deserve bad things that happen to me” I dont’ know where it came from. I don’t know why i have it. I just do.

and i feel like my brain is slowly leaking out my ears thanks to everywhere my mind has to be at once. School, and work and wedding plans, after wedding plans…. work and the like. New job, apartment (which i know nothing about finding a good apartment) I’m starting to just … ooze stress.

I was thinking about this quote last night. Scott was saying that he wished that people were more rational about things. It made me think of this: “Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping… …waiting… And though unwanted… …unbidden… it will stir…open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us… guides us… Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… and the ecstasy of grief.It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank… Without passion, we’d be truly dead.”

I believe it. I believe that the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. Indifference, the lack of passion, is what kills everyone. It’s what makes the rejected weep and neglected children exist. I always used to think that if my Dad hit me, at least i’d know how he felt about me. (not that he ever did, i’m just saying) the not knowing… that’s what kills you. The wondering if it’s true. Floundering between one place and another. Not knowing how someone feels, and then finding that person feels nothing, not good nor bad…. not evoking any sort of emotion in a person can kill you.

Passion: intense, driving, or overmastering feeling or conviction

How can you live without it? I’m not saying you should let your passions rule you (too many people do, thus the STD out break-y non-goodness.) Let them fill you. And show restraint. I’m definitely not saying “Go out and be tempted on purpose! WHEE!” That’d just be stupid. No… Live. Be free. Feel emotions. Be angry when you’re angry, and be sad when you’re sad, and show it when you’re happy. Live in the moment of what you’re feeling. Love it.

Derringer Meryl [Do Not Seek Out Danger] Out

…it was fun for what it was worth…

is that all that can be said for life? that it was fun for all that it was worth? I really don’t think so. I think that drinking and sleeping around (no offense to Mayer, who said this) is what life is all about. Sure. people do it. but i think life is all about love. Not free love, and lust and all that… Dont’ get me wrong, passion is a great thing… after all what Angel says about Passion, is more than true:

“Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping… …waiting… And though unwanted… …unbidden… it will stir…open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us… guides us… Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have?
Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… and the ecstasy of grief.
It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank… Without passion, we’d be truly dead.”

truly dead. How horrid. Isn’t it amazing though, how many of us walk through life, living, but not alive. I can clearly remember when I started living. When I realized, that i’d be okay without my boyfriend (now ex for three years, hallelujah!!) and that he was using me, and that i was an amazing person who deserved much better. Remembering that moment in time, makes me happy. Makes me better than happy, freakishly elated, i’d say. It was like being reborn, without all of the odd ceremony or anything. That was the first moment, i realized that i was a person, who deserved more than to be kicked around and beaten on. and that i wasn’t the prettiest thing ever, but i was worth SO much more than what he treated me. *sniffles*

How DO you measure the worth of a person? Who am I to say someone is worthless, or not? I’m not– i’m not anyone to do something like that. In my experience, people are too often treated below their worth. Especially in school… especially in society– If you aren’t pretty enough, you’re valued below those who are pretty, and if you aren’t skinny enough, then you’re valued below those who are skinny. Or with men, If you’re not detached enough, or if you help around the house too much… God. It’s horrid. I figure, I should only worry about what God thinks of me, and no one else.

And God thinks me Beautiful.

Derringer Meryl [Happy 300 entries] Out