café! et qu'est-ce que c'est?

Two things I've been absolutely addicted to as of late? Caffeine, especially coffee, and news. Now, the caffeine part is no news. I've been addicted to caffeine for a long time now. But the news thing, that's new for me.
For the same reason I never really appreciated history lessons, I had a hard time following the news. None of it seemed relevant. It happened somewhere else to someone else and had/has no immediate (if any) effect on me. I'm not proud of it but you could say I was apathetic. Still, I have a hard time caring about and/or focusing on most history lessons but I have learned to appreciate more of the surrounding world currently.
This started because I felt like I stopped growing as a person. I graduated with my bachelor's and haven't decided on if/when/where to go back to school yet. My job can be challenging but it doesn't necessarily extend much beyond the brick and mortar. A goal that I have tried to set for myself is to always strive to be better. Smarter, stronger, somehow better. I decided to start listening to NPR in the mornings.
NPR is a gateway news feed. Soon enough, I would flip by a news channel and flip back to find myself sucked in partly because I wanted to see if I could learn anything new and partly to show off (even if only to myself) that I had already learned about the current topics during my A.M. NPR session. Now I read headlines when I see them on my e-mail homepages or stories when friends post them on facebook.
Furthermore, the teacher in me wants to share all of my learned lessons with everyone else. Again, this is partly to show off what I know about current topics. Still, it is also to learn others' input and to just spread the wealth of knowledge to those I know and especially to those I love.
I feel like my description thus far of my new news-appreciation is mediocre. Many have shared similar relationships with the media for years. What pushes it into an addiction is that I feel the burden of wanting to know everything, usually hopefully before I have to find out from someone I know. It's part of my "discoverer's syndrome". Yes, I diagnosed myself. Yes, I made up that diagnostic term.
This may seem narcissistic or stubborn or something but I have a hard time accepting/appreciating things (especially tv shows) that I don't feel I would have "discovered" without the help of someone close to me. While I can appreciate that they are willing to share with me the things that they like, it almost subconsciously bothers me that I am depending on them to supply me with knowledge/recommendations/etc. I spent a few years ignoring shows like Scrubs because someone else had told me about them. Once I started watching Scrubs and started to realize what an awesome show it is, I realized what was going on. So you could say I'm working my way through the stages of recovery, I guess. I'm at admittance and acceptance.
I just need to know more. Nothing fuels my mind and reading awareness/comprehension, I feel, better than caffeine. So there you have.

Coffee! And what is that?

What's new? What's happening? What went on? What can I do? What can I learn?



Ever inquisitve, ever challenging, ever growing, ever beautiful,
m'appelez Bella

tu es triste. je suis désolée

Birds and Tears. Words and Fears.

If only I could be the wings on your caged bird

If only I were the songs of a dove

If only the swans shared their beauty

If only I, solely, was your love

But you are the cage that surrounds me

You don’t even know I’m inside

Maybe, when once you had found me,

You wouldn’t be lacking such pride

If you could see beauty that profounds you

You’d be a happier man

If you could accept me, my beauty

You’d love me for the who that I am

If only I could be there when you cry

Even just as the tear on your cheek

I’d comfort you, falling, and then dry

I would make your future less meek

I’d wash away hurt and stay close by

I’d be with you while you felt pain

I would let time pass and just stand by

I would, for your world, be the rain

And in the end, you’d see my beauty

In the end, you’d feel me again

In the end, I’d die for you, mutely

In the end, I’d have nothing to gain

But it’s not about winning or losing

The battle, it stirs deep within

For longing and longing, I’ve lost you

And I’ll never see you again.

m'appelez belle

Call me beautiful. That is  what I want to hear.
I want to know that I leave an impression. I want to make a difference. If I am nothing else to the world but beauty, at least I will have been that.
Don't call me pretty. Pretty is petty. Beauty is all encompassing. Beauty blooms, from the inside, out. Calling me beautiful is like calling me meaningful.
When you call me beautiful, you tell me you care. When you tell me I'm beautiful, I know you noticed. When I am called beautiful, I feel strong.
If I am beautiful, I am useful.
As a beautiful human being, I am kind. As a beautiful woman, I am inspiring. As a beautiful sister, aunt, daughter, friend, I am loving.
With my beauty, I hold purpose. With my beauty, I captivate. With my beauty, I love.

merci beaucoup

I wonder if Native Americans celebrate thanksgiving like our family does. My great great grandma on my father's side was half Cherokee. That might not say a lot to most. That certainly doesn't make me Cherokee or anything but I think most would be surprised that I still knew her for about ten years of my life. We have a young family and I'm thankful for that.

 I'm thankful that I met my Ma Hattie (my great great grandmother) and at least five great grandparents. I had a pretty close relationship with my great grandmother on my mom's dad's side. And I'm thankful for that. I still have a great grandpa and he always manages to get the entire family together when he makes it back up here. He lives in Alabama, a survivor of the second world war and of two cancers. Still, to me, he seems healthy as ever. He's a strong man. Still working, still walking, still hiking. He has stories.

I'm incredibly thankful for him. I'm thankful for my grandparents all of whom are still living. Though I don't see my dad's parents as much, I still feel close to them. Even though my grandpa on dad's side never remembers me, I am still proud to be related to him. I still see him every year for Thanksgiving and sometimes for Easter. 

When telling a co-worker that I was going to Kentucky to see family, he asked if I was from there. Before I could answer, he noted that even if I wasn't I probably had roots there and that's probably why I'm so nice.

If you've never been to Kentucky, you might not understand. Everybody is sweet as sugar down here. 

A lot of times, when you give someone a compliment, they want one back. Not here. Palahniuk talks in some books about how people only ask you about yourself so that you'll ask them about theirs. Not here. 

They are a simple folk. And I do not mean that in a connotative way. You know all those movies where people get so caught up in technology, so lost in their agendas that they lose track of their real lives? They lose contact with their family, they forget what the real world looks like, feels like. They take the Earth and their loved ones for granted... That doesn't happen here. Here, they probably haven't seen one movie like that let alone the several that could fit into that category.
My grandpa here is a strong man. He is certainly a working man though an accident many years back claimed him unfit to work. Instead he works around the house. The thing about my grandparents is that they all used to party. They were those beatniks you see in old fashion photos. Blue jeans and white tees. Cigarettes rolled in the sleeves even if they didn't smoke. Everyone of them drove a motorcycle for at least some time. They're all calmer now but they sure can tell a story. And they really have a bunch of nice old photos time.
If you ever get the time, and haven't done so before and the option is still available for you, you should look at your grandparent's photos. So I'm thankful for my grandparents and for all of their stories and their pictures and all this time I've had so far to get to know them.
I'm thankful that I have roots in Kentucky. I'm thankful that I have strong, smart, hardworking role models with hearts of gold. I'm thankful to be so grounded. To have the opportunity to experience the modern world daily and be brought back to "real" life at least once a year.
I'm thankful for my brain. I see so many people that can't multi-task or focus long enough to read. I'm thankful that I had such encouraging, teaching-savvy parents. I'm thankful for my ability and eagerness to learn. It crushes me to see my nieces and nephew say things like, "I don't need to know math. A calculator can do that for me." Or, "I already took the quiz, I don't need to remember that anymore." I know I've said that a few times but I really do try to remember what I'm taught. At least now I guess.
I'm thankful for those angels- my nieces and nephew. I can't imagine a life without them. They each have such unique qualities that make me proud to be their aunt. I really am thankful for all of my family.
I can't even imagine how I could have possibly turned out without any single one of them. And I'm glad that, for the most part, they're all healthy.
Thanksgiving may have been started as a celebration of our taking land from the native Americans and then settling peacefully with them and may have continued as a sort of patriotic holiday but I only ever look at it as a day most of us get off of work where we can spend time with our loved ones and be thankful for them. It's a day to look back on our lives and ignore our regrets. Reminisce on the good times and really explore what makes us happy, what keeps us going. Whatever I have to be thankful for today, I have been thankful for before and will be thankful for again. And I'm thankful for having this day to look back and be thankful for it all.
Thank you for reading. Call me beautiful.

philosophie de l'art

If I remember my art philosophy course correctly,  Plato described art as a copy of a copy. He was worried that the harder one tries to portray an object's beauty the more one would destroy it. Dishonesty was of great concern. For those who couldn't see a flower, but could see a painting of one, would be stripped of the original beauty of being in the flower's presence. But the viewer, nonetheless would still see a flower and still see beauty in that flower.
Today, we not only  have museums chock-full of this dishonesty but everyone has a moving picture box in their home to provide continual, dishonest, imperfect beauty. Enter television. I can only say this in so many ways before I even get tired of it but our generation is living through this ruined world that Plato was worried about.
We watch the lives that go by on television as if they were our own. Meanwhile, hardly anyone takes the chance to try to live anymore. I will take time, here and now, to admit that I am a hypocrite. While I know these are the things destroying our generation and I try to heed against them, I take part knowingly and willingly. I'm not brainwashed into thinking that I'm doing anything more with my life than the next. I admit that I am the same "undifferentiated nothingness" that I was when "my peepholes first opened" (thank you Vonnegut).
Still, as the hypocrite that I am, I would like to point out that even Disney/Pixar people know what's happening. Those hypocrites playing on our hypocracy. They see it happening and they mock us for it, knowing that we're still going to love it, still going to love them. Still going to beg for more when it's over. We know we're getting lazy and we know we're only living through the screen but that's what we like, its what we want. Entertainment, in this era, has entered under those categories of survival it seems. Along with shelter, water and food, we need to be entertained.
I would like to say that I think it is "good" (but only to the extent that learning our lessons through tv can be) that there are movies like Wall-E that show kids where our laziness will get us. Kids may not see the underlying themes like adults may but hopefully it settles in their minds on at least some sub-conscious level that we do need to stop trashing our earth, our minds and our bodies.
I still enjoy a movie from time to time, those copies of copies of copies but I try to appreciate beauty in it's purest available form as well. I still enjoy walks amongst what nature is left. I still dig my feet in the sand or stop to watch a dragonfly flutter on by.
I know Plato would describe books the same way, copies of copies.Though my interpretation of these copies of copies, and the thoughts that follow, could to some level be dishonest and impure- yet another set of copies- I appreciate that I feel slightly more knowledgeable for having read/learned them.
As Palahniuk would touch on, in Lullaby, some people still view knowledge as power. And life is just a battle of power. Maybe once I have enough "power", I will actually do something with it. Or maybe I won't be an exception to the rule, though. I could just forever remain what I always was, what I still am, undifferentiated nothingness. Uninspired. Uninspiring. Copied. Copying.
No matter the outcome, I will probably always feed off of and into what Plato would have called a copied world. This is how we've evolved. Words = Knowledge. Knowledge = Power. We are born to be entertaining. We are needing to be entertained. We are hungry for power. So learn something.

"The natural world destroyed, we're left with this clutter world of language." -CP

la vie en film

I've been thinking for a while now, maybe a couple years or so, about trying to pinpoint beautiful experiences and trying to capture them in memory and trying to pass them on to the world. In sketches. In stories. In some sort of artistic expression. I have been searching for the right blend of experiences and related descriptions to deem worthy of one's reading. Years later, I am ashamed to admit that I have realized or perhaps been convinced that even the best of descriptions for the best of moments are still just copies of copies.
Thank you Chuck Palahniuk for taking my beauty, my insight, my loves, my memories straight out of my hippocampus and throwing them all into the metaphorical trash. Nothing that has happened to me hasn't happened to everyone else. No experience is unique.
I think back to the time when a boyfriend of mine would surprise me by dancing to nothing but the beat of our own footsteps. At the moment, I was mystified and surprised. I was so sure that the story of our love could be summed up in the few short minutes we spent closer to each other than the rest of the world had ever been. Closer to each other than anyone in the rest of the world could ever try to be. It made me feel beautiful and unique. Loved and special enough to spend the time and spontaneity on. And then I saw the same scene re-enacted for the world to see in a movie. Only it was different characters and it was in the middle of a road somewhere. And you could see her smile and you could see the passion in his eyes. And, although they were dancing to silence, there was a soundtrack for us to hear because it was after-all a movie.
The thing about movies though, is that you can see all the characters and even when the characters have a flashback, the scene includes all of them even the one whose mind is supposedly having the flashback. You get to see just how beautiful, just how in love all of the characters are/were. You get to see how the love in their eyes makes them that much more beautiful for just that moment. But the thing about real life is you are never going to be able to see what everyone else sees in the way that you feel. The love you held in your eyes only counts to the one who saw it and it only counts for that moment. You can never recreate that beauty or that moment because you couldn't see it from all angles.
And why would you want to? We say we want special and unique experiences but we're addicted to happiness the way a masochist is addicted to suffering. After having that one glorified, defining moment we can't wait for the next to come along. After all, if we were only due that one glorified, defining moment, what reason would we have to live for after it? So we try again.
We keep dancing in the silence hoping to feel that passion, hoping to recreate that moment. Little do we realize that the moment was 'special' because it was spontaneous and unprecedented. But, with the limited creative potential this modern world holds, it is hard, maybe impossible even, to continue creating spontaneous moments so we get sucked in to the hum-drum daily grind of real life. And we start living in movies and books because those copies of copies are unique to us and make us feel alive.

Tout le mond devrait le faire

I start thinking about it and my heart starts racing. If I were any more excited I think my body would actually start trembling. In ten minutes, I know that I will be right where I want to be. I will be hot and sweaty and I will be satisfied to know that there is something I do right. And afterwards I will be glad I made the decision to do this. I will be happy and I will even feel more beautiful. Still, I know the next time I do this will feel even better and I will be even happier and I will feel even more beautiful.

I have an addiction. A healthy one.

I love to run.

je suis amour

One of my best friends has a tattoo on her wrist. It reads:
be free
be happy
be love
For readers that don't understand French, and didn't look it up already, the title of this one translates to "I am love." Though I may not think of that saying everyday, like someone who has it tattooed to their wrist might, I still feel as though I have melded this saying into my persona. After all, who shouldn't be free? Who shouldn't be happy? Who shouldn't be love?
There may have been days when I have come up with people who, at the time, I thought didn't deserve to be one or any of those. Realistically, however, I am sensible enough to admit that each and every individual truly deserves all three of these idealisms toujours.

We should all be free to feel the way we feel. Whether it's what we want to feel or not, we are all human and can't always control our feelings. Others should be able to accept that. It is okay to be sad. It is also okay to be happy. But at no point in my life should I ever have to be either. We should all be free to express ourselves however we want. You may not agree with me, but you may feel free to express that as well. Each and every individual should be free to make mistakes! What better way to learn? We should be free to talk, free to listen, free to walk, free to christen, free to love... Free. to. be.

I have heard, often, that it is okay to cry. It is okay to be sad. Its okay to grieve. And it is true, that is all okay. But how rare is it to hear, to read, to understand that it is also okay to be happy? I love this phrase for many reasons. It contradicts the norm. It gives an optimistic spin on life. This phrase frees one of the burden of feeling as though one has to acknowledge and/or represent the moment when things go wrong. This phrase opens up a world of happiness where others may have felt it wasn't yet appropriate or okay to move on.
Lesson learned: there is no right or wrong time to grieve. Even when sad things happen, it is okay to be happy.

Further, it is okay to love and be loved. From this, I conclude that it is important, essential even, to be love. This is a free and open phrase. It can mean many things to many people. To me, love is a happiness felt in your heart. It's knowing that somewhere in your life, you or someone close did something so right that your connection to yourself or that person can constantly change your life for the better. And even when it feels like it may be changing your life for the worst, one day you will realize that those feelings were still "character-building" and you still turned out to (as you always will) be better off.
So to be love, in my opinion, is to be that happiness in a heart. It can even be in your own. I know that some would still disagree when they hear, "better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." But in the most minimal of ways, you should at least love yourself.
You don't have to be selfish, cocky, and/or arrogant to love yourself. This simply takes a little appreciation. Sit down and think about it. What do you like about yourself? Maybe you do something for others, maybe you like the way you look, maybe you have an incredibly optimistic point of view. These are just three of millions of reasons to love one's self. You should be able to come up with at least one. Why? Because you will be a better person for it. Because, if you can't love something as simple and approachable as yourself, you will never be able to appreciate that which makes life worth living. And without that appreciation, even if your body is still alive, you are not truly living.
In order to love others, I'm sure you've heard, you must first love yourself. And why bother loving others? Love is such an important communicator between two human beings. It doesn't have to be between lovers to be important love. Just as loving yourself is necessary to appreciate life, loving others opens up that many more doors to the opportunity of appreciating that much more in life. I feel so passionate about this that I'm sure this subject will take up more than one blog. I'll save that for another day, though. But just know that, in the words of Kimya Dawson, "Love is common destiny."

inspiration

I don't know if this has already been "discovered" by someone yet, but I find that those who are truly great at what they do are those who have suffered a great deal. For some reason, a crooked childhood, a near death experience, a loved one's death... they are all perfectly great inspirations. Maybe it's because it forces the person to think longer, harder, and deeper about life and their supposed purpose.

What are any of us here for, really? What are you here for?

Before this gets too deep for anyone, let me remind you that yes, I do ask a lot of questions. I know, I am the writer. I should be the one informing not the one inquiring. But these are, more or less, hypothetical questions. I plan to share my opinion and thoughts, where they apply, but I want to make you think. Good classes, the ones you really learn things in, don't just give you information. Good classes, good people, the ones you really learn things from, ask questions. They make you think. Good classes and people engage you not just during, but for at least a while, if not forever, after. There will be no quiz. Not about RL. But these are key points that I'm brushing on. Maybe you can make time to think of them when you're in the shower.

Have you suffered something that should/could make you great? If yes, have you really? Or are you just being dramatic? If you really have, did you use that driving force or did you try to bury it? Sometimes people bury it because they don't want others to know what happened to them. Sometimes people exploit their problems to make them seem more meaningful and moving. Rarely, but most importantly, people keep these problems honest and relevant for as long as they can and help others to cope with similar situations. Or help others learn. Or help others heal. And in this process, they create something beautiful.

Can one be inspired and/or inspiring without such an epiphenomenon? I would like to believe that no one wishes upon themselves a great tragedy in order to be inspired. So, how would the rest of us, un-bothered nothings find inspiration? Can a person truly be inspired by the beauty of life as it is? If you stop to smell the roses, do you think to appreciate that you can: 1.stop 2.smell 3.find roses??? And if so, is that even enough? I feel as though this is what gets you called naive.When you can finally take the world and view it as something beautiful, you are all of a sudden missing out on reality. Why do we have to strive so hard to be happy but at the same time focus on everything that is wrong with the world? Is it enough to appreciate the good times, or do we never rest until everyone is happy? Newsflash: ce n'est pas possible

call me Bella

This is hardly a love story. But I hope you love it. I want it to inspire. There are so many blogs out there and I have hardly a clue what they're all about. I just know that I want this one to make sense and have purpose. I wish for someone to benefit. Words are so easily tossed around and often forgotten. I'm not expecting these words to forever be remembered but know that they are not coming easily. And they are not being tossed.
I am the kind of person who won't say something if I can't word it the way I want. This blog is not going through five stages of editing but each post will be carefully thought out. Words should not be wasted.

Not even in a blog.

Here is how I see it: Life is a struggle of purpose and beauty. If you fail to serve a purpose, you should at least be beautiful. Which is easier?

I love "would you rather"s. So here is one that I would like to share: Would you rather wake up and know that you're beautiful and see beauty when you look in the mirror but know that the rest of the world sees something more along the lines of ugly OR wake up and see ugly but know that the rest of the world thinks you are beautiful?