Are you upset?

I saw "Where The Wild Things Are" tonight with some friends and it basically confirmed that someone else thinks assholes are only assholes because they're people who are scared. I really do think that. How can anyone really just be an asshole? I refuse to believe that can happen. There just MUST be something behind it, and like I've said, fear is behind everything negative.

The kid in this flick was lonely and afraid he wasn't loved so he acted out. Then he went to this beautiful and diverse island where the Wild Things were all scared and lonely and feared they weren't loved and then THEY acted out. Then the all realized they ARE loved and hugged each other and made me want to cry. Because sometimes I'm an asshole. Because sometimes I'm scared.

But I think it's maturity that lets me see that sometimes I'm an asshole. Sometimes I'm scared. Maturity let's me accept it, and attempt to deal with it. Maturity.

Concurrently, there's a mutiny in my World Civ class because our professor is a jerk. I wonder what he's afraid of. I've been getting emails from my peers telling me to join them in sending an email to the Department Head to complain. Now I'm not exactly sure what to do at this point, because all I really want to do is hug him and tell him that it's okay. It's aalll okaaay, like his mom once did, or didn't do, and who the hell knows what the problem is. I sure hope he isn't fired because he knows world history. He just is an ass. And that's really too bad.

Floating thoughts

It was raining yesterday. I was on my way to class, late, standing at the corner waiting for the light to change. I had the umbrella Kelsey left in my apartment before she left for Wales, which is bigger than my little green one that can barely keep a girl dry. I noticed a guy with his shoulders up around his ears, cold and wet, so I did the unimaginable: I invited him under my umbrella. I forgot I was late while we walked and talked and I made a new friend.

Who doesn't love white-noise, like a fan running, when you fall asleep?

And is this the first day of peace? (I really do feel like it might be.)

I've been collecting data to determine whether or not I'm an adult. I have a game closet. That's a very adult thing to have. I have beer in my refrigerator, but I always have trouble spelling refrigerator. Hm. Quandary. I pack snacks for road trips.

But what's more is (yeah, check it out), I can apologize when I've messed up. I can hug people when they're crying. I can tell someone when they have hurt my feelings. Now, that's adult.

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On fear

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I love fear. Fear is awesome. Fear runs everything, you know. If you gave me the chance, I would try to link every negative thing you've ever done to some fear you had. Isn't that crazy? I didn't always think this, but once I did, it was certainly hard to shake. I'm glad it's hard to shake though because wouldn't you like to know about something inside you running your life in all sorts of strange ways with not so much as a note to why? Yeah you would.

Regrets are linked to past fears. Wars, even this war going on right now was started by some fear. Why are people mean? Why do people cheat? Why do we fight? Why are there guns? Why is there so much shit going down all over the world, men? Why did I just single out men? Because men are more afraid than women. They, hands down, have the most to lose.

Love,
s

On worry

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It all started with Baz Luhrmann. I watched his version of Shakespeare's "Romeo + Juliet," (1996) and subsequently hopped on itunes and bought the soundtrack.

First of all, the album is great, a sweet kick back to the 90's, but that's not really my point.

The song, "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" struck a cord. Maybe it's because I'm nearing the end of college and for some reason the worry and anxiety that is usually (albeit constant yet) "underlying" is now screaming (more with everyone around me, but a bit for me too).

For days, I was holding onto one of the song's mantras, "Don't worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum." I was rolling it around and thinking about my friends and all their worries, about how I was worrying about their worries, and about my own worries and the ways all this darn worrying was affecting me. I've concluded that worry is bizarre and fascinating.

But what's more is why do we worry? I was researching social norms, the things we say, the ways we think because of what we are told, the flight or fight response, the idea of inherent self-worth, "earning" and "deserving" and it's so complicated we hardly ever give ourselves over to thinking about it! Worry is crazy! Guilt is crazy! It's self-inflicted anxiety! Masochists. A society made up of masochists. No wonder we're so preoccupied, giving ourselves polyps and ulcers, and dare I say ...cancer to have any time left for happiness.

I looked up "worry" on the internet. That's right. I looked it up and I found a whole website devoted to anxiety. It has articles about combating worry, finding your purpose, and how our society is selling us emotions. Emotions are tight. Every single darn one of 'em. (Please note that Worry is not an emotion.)

I don't claim to have an answer; I don't know how to be save my friends from worrying. But I'm giving myself a shot. I'm going to, like the "Anxiety Culture" website suggests, take my feet off both peddles. No accelerator. No brakes. Hey, no hands!! (I added that last one myself.) Don't get me wrong; I'm not going to throw in the towel on the world, I'm just going to hug and welcome it. You know, I was reminded about a fact of life by the sitcom "Big Bang Theory:" we are born, we consume calories, we expel waste, we die. Neat, huh? And I promise all that will happen, too. Guaranteed. The rest of it cannot, by definition, contain mistakes. Since nothing else is noted in the rules of life, anything goes. Happiness goes. Happiness! We can have it! No one cosmologically important said we can't. We said we can't. WE said we can't? Masochists. Masochists. We can be happy, you know. And we don't even have to feel guilty about it.

So here's to it: thinking about what I'm worrying about, separating the feeling of anxiety from the actual problem and welcoming the problem. Hey, impending graduation, real world, and no path of aspiration! What up? The time that my mind has already given you, that doesn't even exist yet, will happen. For shiznizzle. It will definitely pass, and then what? Will I be happy? No matter what happens in that already donated slot in my life? Guaranteed. Happiness. Guaranteed!

Love,
s

At the dinner table, Sarah recited this from memory:

"How could I henceforth be content in any other life
than one that sets the brain in a hot merry fever with its stir?"

-Augusta Webster, "A Castaway"

(This isn't Sarah. This is Katie.)

Reduce. Reuse. Recycle.

I'm glad people are recycling, but what about the two steps before "recycle?" I find them to be arguably more valid, simple, and worthy steps, too, but they don't get near the press time their famous, or perhaps now infamous, sibling Recycle has gotten. (Did you know it's been dubbed a "craze?" Yeah, really.)

Don't get me wrong, it's encouraging to see good things like recycling and organics become in vogue. Finally old fads like large SUVs and super-homes are becoming ugly with the label "excessive," said with upturned noses by those who once yearned to possess. Our country is socially catching up with the rest of the world, which is neat to watch. Hey look guys! Our resources are finite! Hmm.. Let's recycle!

But what about steps one and two? Why so hasty to fix the problem by jumping to three? Reduce your consumption; why not? It's cheaper, like reducing the amount of packaging you contract (makes it sound like a disease, eh?) Like using a cloth shopping bag or buying the two liter bottle of Coke instead of a six pack of plastic bottles you defensively validate by saying, "Well I'll recycle them." My engineer grandfather has created a system of his own, and I have a feeling it's more a personal thing (ie financial) than about our environment. Once upon a time, he bought a six pack of club soda in their lovely uniform glass bottles. He drank them, washed them, and saved them. Now he buys the large bottle of club soda. Since he lives alone and can't finish the large bottle by himself before the contents becomes flat, he pours the soda from the large bottle into the six little bottles and refrigerates them to drink at his leisure. It's practical, efficient, and smart. Well done Papa.

Which brings us straight to the elusive step two: reuse what you already have. Novel, I know. What happened to the Tupperware craze of the fifties? We all remember that handy invention, so why did we switch to plastic ziplock bags? Since we (seemingly) all have dishwashers now, it would be a cinch to clean and reuse those dirty tuppies we all know and love. Can we also lean on nostalgia a little for the lunch box our mom's used to pack for us and stop sending our kids to school one brown paper bag after the other? (Or even use them ourselves?) And it's cheaper! We like cheaper!

Man oh man, what a world! What a great world! We have so much and we're even starting to like each other and look around to see what's goin' on. Sweet. It's a great day to be alive, with ideas and colors and lots of smiles and such. So grab that reusable shopping bag and go buy some local strawberries! Heck, take a bike ride there and high five your next door neighbor on the way. Don't fret about recycling so much, because there are two easy steps that can leave you with very little to recycle in the end anyway! Wahoo! Freedom to make choices! And good ones at that! :)

Back in the US of A

I'm back and it's nice. Who knew Tennessee would be so green?

Too many things have happened for me to write, but many good things have passed and some neutral ones. I can't remember if there have been bad things, but I take that as a good sign.