Sean is a English major senior at MSU and and graduate student hopeful. His primary skills include, reading, listening and thinking, all with a pinch of bullshit.
This tumblr is dedicated to musing, analysis and sharing of ideas and art, big and small, and of all disciplines--in the hope of defining the world we experience.
Hows that for a pinch of Bullshit?
You know, I used to check this every day to see if you had posted something. I was nursing this stupid fantasy that maybe one day we’d end up together or something.
I don’t check it so much now. I dont have to any more. I guess it wasn’t so stupid after all.
This has been a trying week/weekend.
However there are some silver linings.
Recently I have decided to look into joining the peace corps. It has been bouncing around my brain for awhile, but for whatever reason it this desire crystallized over the last couple of weeks. Just thinking about the possibility—living that life for two years, doing something for the world, making a mark in someone’s life; all the while changing my own—I get excited just thinking about it.
Other good things? I guess you can say I’m taking care of myself again. Along with the recent intellectual broadening, I have really been trying to get my corporeal self caught up. Realize the man inside myself. The marble is really barely chiseled, but I can already feel some changes. I’m a little more like the me I want to be.
However, with every silver lining comes the cloud. I feel robbed. I feel robbed of what could have been a good thing—WAS a good thing—and the last exchanges and memories are everyday colored, tainted, by the fact that I grow every moment more resentful of the shoe I see about to drop. Resentful that it hasn’t. Not resentful because it must. Resentful that I have to wait, knowing what is about to come.
I feel robbed of a brother. I feel blamed, and time after time robbed of my resolution in this instance. Like the other, I just want this to be done. And like the other, its completely out of my hands.
No control, no choice, no say. There is the motif. The frustrating, mind numbing motif that threatens to draw hot beads of sweat from my eyes every time I immerse myself in my situation. And I have to. You will never figure anything out if you can’t sit in it and fester and rot and hate until you can’t even breath. Then you come up for air, rid of all the emotion, it being transfused into the situation; left there, in moment and memory, but not in mind. Cleansed. Clear, calm, collected—you can make the necessary steps to change your situation.
Right now, I’m waiting for my hate. For my sadness and sense of loss to have its moment, and then be gone.
But, until something finally happens: I wait. I breath. I study and write and run and smoke. Most of all, I sit and stare into this screen. The blank, glowing white burns any intelligible thought away. Emptiness takes the place of cleansing, and it does the job just fine, for now. I take the very few things that I can really control and I control them. I control my temper, and my sorrow, and external reactions. I go about my day the best I can, because it’s all I can do.
New years was a blast. I feel I played my hand well—drank only to where I wanted to be (and stayed there the rest of the evening), socialized a little with all the different groups, reconnected with one of my best friends, and seemingly made some pointless progress in an equally pointless pursuit.
Pointless, yeah. Meaningless? I don’t think so. There may not be the typical meaning most people infer from such pursuits, but a chase, a smile, the feeling like you might be moving in some direction. It’s a good thing.
Maybe it is more like art for art’s sake. Trying your luck, genuinely putting yourself out there while having a good time—all just because you can, for the sake of possibility. Nothing needs to have earth shattering meaning. Nothing more needs to happen. Lightning flashes of dark eyes; dazzling toothy grins coaxed out from behind all too inviting lips; the comforting familiarity of a hand instinctively searching out your own, holding tightly for just a few moments, as you both fall asleep on top of the covers with your shoes on.
That is all it needs to be.
I’d be a filthy liar to say I wouldn’t want more. But, right now, where I am, it’s enough. When properly appreciated, its more than enough.
“We talked about life and our goals and dreams and branched off into every topic imaginable, both serious and fun. At one point I looked into her eyes while she spoke. I never knew what I felt there, and even now, when I look back, I can’t begin to describe the electricity I felt in that moment.”
I wrote that in January of 2007 about an encounter the previous fall.
I don’t think there has ever been such a time where I felt like that again.
I feel like that sometimes, listening to music, sometimes when reading a passage in a book. Sometimes though, it is unattainable. It seems to be a motif in my writing. Spread out over a 4 year time-line, I have a smattering of writing I deemed good enough to offer unto the eternal god of knowledge and communication—the Internet. Going back through these pieces I realize that there is a terribly theme that connects them all. This, near excitement, this buzzing beneath the surface of my being or my characters being, and then: Nothing.
Eventually, recklessly breaking the first law of thermal dynamics, energy becomes nothing. Excitement, wonder, awe, determination, purpose ——> Emptiness.
I want to be able to look into someone’s eyes, and feel that energy. Have the energy and feeling and life behind those eyes stir something inside me that will refuse to become nothing: That will be, reckless and unabashed.
The honesty of that paragraph is terrifying. I don’t want to live my life without that.
I wish things could be the way I wished on this subject. It’s hard to be sad, but it is easy to be unhappy.
I’m pretty sure I’ll never get what I want.
But I won’t settle.
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