Tag Archives: Quotes

23.19: Dancing Through the Fire

Universal Truth.

I have found the statements “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent” and “Loving someone means giving them the right to hurt you” to be incredibly conflicting.

Especially when you happen to believe both to be true.

 

 

Dark & Twisted…

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15.13: Tell Me What You Read and I’ll Tell You Who You Are

“Harry Potter is about confronting fears, finding inner strength and doing what is right in the face of adversity. Twilight is about how important it is to have a boyfriend.”

I didn’t say this, Stephen King did. I nearly fell off my chair from laughing when I did because I agreed with him SO MUCH. Don’t get me wrong. I read all four books of twilight, just like I did all seven Harry Potter books. I think the biggest difference for me what that I found so much significance in Harry’s life while I just kept praying for Bella to die.

Die, Bella. DIE!!! Sorry, I’ve been dying to say that for the longest time (yes, pun intended).

 

 

Dark & Twisted…

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11.13: With This Ring I Thee Wed

“Hi. This is (name of husband undisclosed). I’m going to marry him one day.”

Those were the first words I said to my mother and father after not visiting for almost a decade. It was December 25th of last year – Christmas – that I decided to introduce him to my parents. Surprisingly, we weren’t the only ones in the cemetery that day.

Yes, my parents are dead. I buried my mother when I was six, my father when I was fifteen. Life would never be the same after that.

You would think that after all these years, it would have been easier… That I would find myself to be a well-adjusted adult calmly dealing with life with grace and poise. Instead I found myself crying more than half a lifetime of tears that never fell five minutes after we finally found their grave. Yes, grave. My mother and father are buried in the same plot. It’s incredibly romantic in a totally creepy sort of way. So much for grace and poise.

That day, I promised I’d come back on my birthday. I’m not too much for following societal rules, so I decided to visit on the dates that meant something to me, not to the church or the rest of the world’s population.

And what do you know? I kept my promise.

*          *          *

Faith.

I was saying goodbye to my parents when I suddenly whispered, “It’s always going to be worth it, isn’t it?” That was their (The Universe, my parents, The Higher Power, My Goddess) one final gift to me. Yesterday, I realized that no matter what had happened, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how hard it has been, it has always been – and it will always be – worth it.

I told my mom with my husband beside me, they would be seeing a lot more of their prodigal daughter. But then I realized that the sudden longing to visit my parents, the sudden wanting to visit the adoration chapel, the not-so-sudden affection I have for every member of my family – these are not things that I do because he pushes me to do it. Nor are they things I do because I want to impress him with my morals or values.

I do these things because it is right – not for society or for church or for family, but for me. In many, many ways, and in many, many levels, it was finally time for me to come home.

Coming Home.

 

 

Blessed Be…

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06.13: Of Ivory Petals and White Butterflies

Just because you can draw or paint, it doesn’t make you an artist. It may make you a really good painter or a gifted sketcher, but not an artist.

Original.

Artistry goes beyond the technical skill – beyond the ability of being able to do something. Great art is geared towards evoking an emotion from its audience, regardless of the media. I have heard some people sing a song perfectly – every single note sung with such precision – and yet, at the end of it all, I feel nothing. And yet I know of people whose voices are a little raw, with a little edge, and yet their haunting melodies can bring tears to my eyes.

I once told a friend that sometimes artists naturally gravitate towards each other because we see the world in a way that is slightly different. Regardless of whether the gravitating towards each other is true or not, what I will stand by is the latter half of what I said – that we don’t see the world the way most people do. That’s what great art is about, I think… Being able to look at the world and see something different… Being able to see the light in sadness… Being able to see the beauty in despair.

Great art is borne out of great emotion… It’s our anger, our joy, our pain that goes into the painting on the canvas… the melody of the music… the words in woven tales. It’s not a matter to seeing a picture and transferring the its image to a blank poster. Art is not about copying – it’s about creating. Artists, even when singing someone else’s songs or painting someone else’s picture, create. No matter how similar it is to the original in the end, artists are incapable of doing exact replicas. We are perpetually driven to leave a piece of ourselves behind.

“…Great art is about conflict and pain and guilt and longing and love disguised as sex, and sex disguised as love…”
Lester Bangs, Almost Famous

We see more. We hear more. We feel more.

We hate more. We love more.

We are more.

And that’s what makes people call us weird.

But I’m not just weird. I’m not even a limited edition. I’m one of a kind. You’ll never find another like me.

 

 

Blessed Be…

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67 in ’12: I’m Holding Every Breath for You

“Life offers you a thousand chances… all you have to do is take one.”
Frances Mayes, Under the Tuscan Sun

This is easier said than done… Especially for those of us who have been hurt, who have hoped, who have waited in vain… Those who have hurt others, who have been denied, who hold on to regret. It’s so hard to move on.

Why do we keep holding on? Because it’s better to be alone than to be open to the possibility of hurting? Has the pain become addicting? Are we forever caught in that vicious cycle of longing for something that can never be ours? After all, as long as what we want is out of reach, it never really has the power to make us bleed.

This is my answer: I hold on because holding on is “safe”. When we are perpetually running after someone or waiting for something, we never have to do anything different. Actually, we stay where it is safe because it gives us an excuse to never really do anything. Period.

But at the end of the day, that’s what it is – an excuse.

Sometimes, I think, we make excuses to not be happy. We make excuses to not be with someone. We makes excuses to stay exactly where we are… even if it makes us miserable.

I was watching this movie the other day (Beauty and the Briefcase) and the long and short of it is this: she kept a list of all the characteristics she was looking for in her “Magic Man” and eventually fell in love with someone who scored a 0 out of 10. At this point, you might be asking yourself why I even bothered to introduce this bit of information. Wait, I’m getting to that.

Very recently, I realized that I have been holding on to the idea of being with this guy because I REALLY wanted him to be my boyfriend. So there was that hope that one day, he will be more concerned about me (because he’s not)… That one day, he will look for me (because he doesn’t)… That one day, he will offer to bring me home (to my house, because he hasn’t). I had boxed myself in. And my box wasn’t a checklist of what I wanted in a guy… My box WAS a guy!

Find me. Bring me home.

I’ll tell you a truth that I’ve never told anyone before… I wanted to fall in love with him in the worst possible way. But I couldn’t. Because I couldn’t find reasons to (cue Breathe’s “How Can I Fall”).

No matter how old I get, the romantic in me never really fades away. It’s still the little things that count for so much.

…Like holding hands
…Like good conversation
…Like comfortable silence
…Like just hanging out
…Like receiving love letters or notes
…Like laughing together
…Like talking about everything and nothing
…Like being brought home after a date
…Like spending time together (sometimes doing nothing)

Time. Someone once said that the greatest gift you can give someone is your time. I SO AGREE. But that is a different story and will be told at a different time.

But for now, I will tell you this: I always say I want it all – the grand passion of a great love. At the end of the day, what makes the passion grand and what makes the love great are all the little things. And it’s the little things that I’ve been missing.

*          *          *

Dear You,

If there are things I want to tell you, it’s these:

Let go.
Let yourself be happy.
Take a chance
Fall in love – REALLY fall in love – again.
Give someone a chance to love you.

Yes, I’m talking about you.

Love Always,
Me

 

 

Ciao Bella!

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66 in ’12: Tonight, We Were Invincible

I should have done this when I was reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower, but that’s done and over with and now I’ve moved on to a new book: Looking for Alaska, by John Green.

To whet the appetite of those who have been reading my blog and those who want to join me in my many, many adventures in the world of books, here are some unforgettable moments…

*          *          *

“And in my classes, I will talk most of the time, and you will listen most of the time. Because you may be smart, but I’ve been smart longer.”
Dr. Hyde

“I would love to spend my remaining breath chatting with you about the finer points of Islamic history, but our time together is short. I must talk, and you must listen, for we are engaged here in the most important pursuit in history: the search for meaning.”
Dr. Hyde

She looked at me and smiled widely, and such a wide smile on her narrow face might have looked goofy were it not for the unimpeachably elegant green in her eyes. She smiled with all the delight of a kid on Christmas morning and said, “Y’all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die.”
Alaska Young

The next day, Dr. Hyde asked me to stay after class. Standing before him, I realized for the first time how hunched his shoulders were, and he seemed suddenly sad and kind of old. “You like this class, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yessir.”

“You’ve got a lifetime to mull over the Buddhist understanding of interconnectedness.” He spoke every sentence as if he’d written it down, memorized it, and was now reciting it. “But while you were looking out the window, you missed the chance to explore the equally interesting Buddhist belief in being present for every facet of your daily life, of being truly present. Be present in this class. And then, when it’s over, be present out there,” he said, nodding toward the lake and beyond.
Conversation between Pudge and Mr. Hyde

“Sometimes I don’t get you,” I said.

She didn’t even glance at me. She just smiled toward the television and said, “You never get me. That’s the whole point.”
Conversation between Pudge and Alaska

Just like that. From a hundred miles an hour to asleep in a nanosecond. I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together, in the most innocent sense of the phrase.
Pudge

“Don’t you know who you love, Pudge? You love the girl who makes you laugh and shows you porn and drinks wine with you. You don’t love the crazy, sullen bitch.”

And there was something to that, truth be told.
Alaska, as said to Pudge

People, I thought, wanted security. They couldn’t bear the idea of death being a big black nothing, couldn’t bear the thought of their loved ones not existing, and couldn’t even imagine themselves not existing. I finally decided that people believed in an afterlife because they couldn’t bear not to.
Pudge’s Paper

The Great Perhaps was upon us, and we were invincible. The plan may have had faults, but we did not.
Pudge

More than anything, I felt the unfairness of it, the inarguable injustice of loving someone who might have loved you back but can’t due to deadness, and then I leaned forward, my forehead against the back of Takumi’s headrest, and I cried, whimpering, and I didn’t even feel sadness so much as pain. It hurt, and that is not a euphemism. It hurt like a beating.
Pudge

He was gone, and I did not have time to tell him what I had just now realized: that I forgave him, and that she forgave us, and that we had to forgive to survive in the labyrinth.
Pudge

And so that is the question I leave you with in this final: What is your cause for hope?
Dr. Hyde

When you stopped wishing things wouldn’t fall apart, you’d stop suffering when they did.

Someday no one will remember that she ever existed, I wrote in my notebook, and then, or that I did. Because memories fall apart, too.
Pudge

We need never be hopeless, because we can never be irreparably broken. We think that we are invincible because we are. We cannot be born, and we cannot die. Like all energy, we can only change shapes and sizes and manifestations. They forget that when they get old. They get scared of losing and failing. But that part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail.
Pudge’s Final Paper

*          *          *

PhoenixFire, if it was just about surviving, getting by, and keeping things the way they are, then how would you explain imagination?

If it was just about sacrifice, selflessness, and altruism, then how would you explain desire?

And if it was just about thinking, reflection, and spiritual stuff, then how would you explain the physical world?

Get the picture, PhoenixFire? Want it all. That’s what it’s there for.

Vroom, vroom –
The Universe

*          *          *

Dear Universe,

I love him.

One day, we will meet.

Love,
PhoenixFire

 

 

Blessed Be…

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64 in ’12: A Kiss in the Rain

It was this line that first caught my attention.

“So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.”
– Charlie, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I recently finished the book and found myself profoundly moved as I read the last sentence. As I’ve told several friends, it was a book that had such an old voice being spoken by someone so young. It was almost too easy to forget that Charlie was only fifteen.

A friend of mine asked who I was among the characters in the book. Without a moment’s hesitation I immediately answered, “Charlie”. She laughed (as much as one could laugh over chat) and said, “You are so NOT a wallflower.”

Truth be told, she was right. I wasn’t the kind of wallflower Charlie was – the one who never got noticed. But so much of what he wrote resonated with how I felt (then, now, and probably always). I am a wallflower in the sense that I listen more than I talk. It’s been a running joke between me and some friends that my talent was to get people to spill their guts. It’s not such an extraordinary thing, really. It’s just that when I talk to people, when I ask them questions, the conversation stops being about me and starts being about them.

At the end of the day, I think we all want the same thing: to be heard.

It doesn’t matter if we tell our stories through poetry or prose, through colored canvasses or photographs, through melodies or movement. We are all story-weavers. And there is nothing we want more than others’ eyes to see us, ears to hears us, and hearts to understand us.

And yet I have learned is that those are the hardest things to find. Not all eyes are attuned to see what I see. Not all ears are ready to hear what I say. Not all hearts are open to understand how inexplicably different I am. Sometimes, it is a very, very lonely life.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid, but I want it when I get like this. That’s why I’m trying not to think. I just want it all to stop spinning.”
– Charlie, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

In the midst of loneliness, however, I think I will always need to hold on to the belief that there is something better out there. That, in some far off place, there is another who holds on to that belief as hard as I do. I will always need to believe that one day, even to just one person, I will be enough. I also believe that one day, there will be that one person who will be enough for me.

“If somebody likes me, I want them to like the real me, not what they think I am. And I don’t want them to carry it around inside. I want them to show me, so I can feel it, too.”
– Sam, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Promise

I’m worth it too, you know.

 

 

Ciao Bella!

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