fly the flag of recognition

I am not a great painter. I can’t look at an object and reconstruct it in a painting with a perspective that redefines objectivity and perspective or gives anyone a stunning new outlook on life. At most, I can look at an orange and put a blob of orange paint on a piece of construction paper. What was “art” and “genius” when I was little is now nothing better than kindle for fire.

I am not a great proficient at music. Yes, I can sing. Yes, I can play about three different instruments. But I can’t compose great pieces (or any pieces for that matter). It’s been a life-long dream of mine. I can hear the piece I want to write, but I can’t play the piano, which has been a definite stumbling block.

I am not good at acting. Though every day, I hide who I truly am even from the people I love most, on stage I freeze up and break out sweating. I would love to be able to carry myself as confidently on stage as I do in my writing. I feel like if I could just get over my stage fright, I would be amazing at acting. The thing is, I spend so much of my time and energy not letting anyone get to know me that I fear putting all of who I really am into the character I would need to become. The best actors and actresses seem to really put themselves into the life of the characters they play. Sure, they bring a bit of themselves into the part, but for the most part, they truly *become* who their character is. I find this utterly amazing.

I am not strong. I am quite possibly the weakest person I know. At the slightest hint of trouble or pain, I hide behind my not-so-subtle defenses, my translucent walls. I wish with all of my heart that I could abandon my useless masks and open myself up to people. I feel like I would be a lot less alone then. But… I’ve never really been one for baring my soul to someone else. On the rare occasion, I will share a personal experience that goes deeper than the surface with someone in need, but otherwise, I try to keep most of my problems to myself. Not many people truly know most of what’s going on (only two that I can think of right now).

My two biggest fears are being alone and dying in my sleep. I am afraid of being alone because nothing good has ever come from me being by myself with nothing to do. I am afraid of dying in my sleep because it actually seems plausible. I am usually in the most pain at night, as I am lying in bed waiting for sleep to come, a sleep that evades me time and time again. I feel weak, helpless, as if the darkness of the night is somehow suffocating me into silence. Oppression. My too-silent soul begins to weep at night, as if somehow the serenity of the blackness releases my deepest fears. Too many times I wake up at night wondering if perhaps this is all one big dream, wondering if maybe someday I’ll wake up and the things I go through will be as a distant memory. A place where I’ve been before, but that I cannot fully grasp. And yet… no matter how hard I try, sleep will never fully come to me, and I will never truly be whole.

I am who I try to be. I am nothing more than what I make of myself, what I make myself become. I can be who I want to be and do what I want to do. Life is about the choices you make, how you view yourself, how you choose to hold yourself. A depressing life comes from believing that you cannot make a difference. Giving up on dreams and goals is like cutting out the soul of life itself. I think that I’m beginning to learn that there are three ways to look at life- pessimistically, hopefully, or apathetically. Up until this point, I’ve lived my life predominantly with enough apathy for a small crowd. However, given recent events, I think perhaps I’m going to start trying for hope. It seems kind of pathetic that *now* I would turn for help, but I think it’s in the darkest times that we need the light the most.

My very soul is expressed in my writing, if one looks hard enough. I’ll be very honest about what I’m going through and how I expect to get through it. Wedged deep inside my writing, I find that a bit of myself is lost in the words. I give a little bit of myself away in my writing, that maybe I shall find some semblance of self-recognition. Many times I fail when trying to comprehend just what I meant to say, what the deeper meaning was, but on those few, rare occasions when I do discover a bit more about myself, I redefine the way I think, the way I live. And I guess I’m just trying to live a bit better, trying to become a little bit more whole inside.

I am trying. I am trying not to forget, trying to remember that what once was must no longer be. Where we came from, we must never return to. Where we came from, we must always remember. Where we came from, a memory in the distance. And silence will never bring us peace. We must not lose our pasts, for they are what shape us. History and the development of culture define how we learn and grow. And to lose our understanding of the past would be to lose the very core of our being.

guess i've been here far too long

I was having a conversation with one of my friends the other day that kind of made me think more than I wanted to about the past in direct relation to the future. We were talking about the economy and budget cuts and stuff, and somehow we got on the topic of movies and TV shows (probably because I've been on a classic movie craze this past week, but more about that later). She turned to me, and she was like, "Beth, I feel old. I mean, look at all of these shows that are being finished up and taken off the air." I actually felt sad for a second before I burst out laughing: "How do you think our parents feel? You can't even find their shows!"

So I mentioned that I've been on a classic movie craze. I recommend it, though perhaps not with the same vigor that I've been exhibiting. It's kind of funny how this started really. First, I found someone who loves old movies as well, and as we were discussing them, I kind of felt empty without them. I grew up on old TV shows and movies with my mom. Second, I was called "learned" by one of my profs, and I felt like I needed to go back to the past to figure out what that really meant (what is a learned woman really like?). Finally, and perhaps the most important reason of all, Turner Classic Movies was having their Oscar marathon until March 3rd, and I'm a sucker for the classics. Midsemester vacation (because I can't call it spring break when there's snow on the ground) provided the perfect opportunity for my viewing pleasure. Anyway, I started watching some of my favorite classics; The Manchurian Candidate, Tom Sawyer, "Matlock", "Hawaii Five-O", "Cadfael" ... Added to that were the Oscar nominated or winning movies like Dick Tracy, North by Northwest, and so on. Then I moved on to some recommendations.. The 39 Steps, Vertigo... And I realized that movies just aren't made like they used to be. Alright, special effects and the advancement of lighting techniques have somewhat improved the quality of presentation, but what happened to the quality of plot? I'll track the progress of Pride and Prejudice, for example. In the 1940's the first rendition of Pride and Prejudice came out. It didn't follow the book too well, but all the same, it was the first. Next came the 5 1/2 hour BBC version, starring Colin Firth, that was actually a TV mini-series aired and then transferred to VHS and later to DVD. While long, this was perhaps the most accurate a movie could get to the book. Finally, Keira Knightley starred in a more recent release in 2005. While most of the plot was still there, Mr. Darcy was portrayed a little softer, perhaps a romantic deep down underneath. However, with only around 2 hours to show the budding relationship and societal influences around Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, the "journey", the fight between money and love, the sheer revolutionary ideas that were present in the book and the BBC mini-series were lost on the big screen. Sure, it made a nice profit in the box office, but the layers of drama and heart-breaking battles of desire for different things weren't shown. The very soul of the book was fragmented, and only tiny pieces were shown. The classic movies, the movies that our parents or grandparents or even great-grandparents watched, vividly captured the life and death and beauty and soul of life and theater in the 1920's-1970's. Starting near the early- to mid- 1970's, with the technological advances of the theater, the hammer smashed down on our looking glass to the past. What was once held dear- morals, standards, and all-around compassion- was lost to the bigger picture and motivation of advancement, advancement, advancement. Why do we, as humans and as a nation, feel the need to be bigger and better than those around us? Why is our past such a burden? The latter may seem a silly question, but I would say that none of us (at least in my generation) can particularly boast to trying to get to know our parents and grandparents. Perhaps what made society cleaner and more enjoyable was the ever-present need or demand of familial bonding and personal integrity.

Integrity. Noun. According to Webster's Dictionary; a firm adherence to a code of especially moral or artistic values; without division; unified. In today's world, a word lost in the depths of history, buried, lest someone figure out that we have hearts. I don't believe that people are inherently good, but I don't believe that we are inherently evil. Call me a heretic, but I believe there is a reason that God saved His people- they are inherently His, and there is a possibility of redemption. Somewhere along the way though, I think that someone's heart was broken, and everyone after him or her took a step toward being a hard-hearted nation. We are divided. We are separated in so many ways- class, gender, race, religion, honor. Our very identities seem to be tied to what we do and who we are and what we make of ourselves. What happened to our unified moral standards? What happened to a less-than-perfect-but-still-pretty-just Judicial system? What happened to family being the most important thing? I'll venture a guess that it has something to do with two things; greed and freedom. People chose money, chose to "make a name" for themselves. But freedom... Freedom is perhaps the most dangerous, loosely-used word today. Despite what people say, we are not free. Sure, we're free from some things- absolute human dictatorship, to name one. But think about this: what is freedom? Is freedom the ability to do what we want when we want to do it? Or is freedom the recognition that while we have a choice of whether or not to do something, we also have an obligation to choose who to be loyal to (thus shaping our future decisions)? Is there such thing as absolute freedom? (- I don't think that there is. As Jesus says in Matthew 6:24, "No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money." I've been told that this passage shows that God is our master and thus, we cannot have the absolute freedom to rule our own lives. But that is another discussion for another day. -)

I don't expect to make a difference in anyone's life other than my own. I've learned that the hard way. I cannot change anyone else. But perhaps in a story, in a lesson, in a smile, a heart is softened, an ear open to hear what I have to say. Or maybe my words are better taken as advice to myself. It's never good to be a hypocrite when you try to change someone's life. Better to change yourself with active passion than try to change someone else with idle words and the bitter taste of lies in your mouth. Better to believe what you are teaching..

I'm not saying we should go back to the past. By all means, let us advance. But in our hearts, maybe we should be questioning what our true intentions really are.