E=MC2

Albert Einstein was a pretty cool cat.

I never really knew just how similar I am to him.  Ok, so clearly my brain is not necessarily classified as being "genius".  Although I may beg to differ in some circumstances lol.


I watched this documentary on him and on his discovery of his theory of Relativity. Well...I guess its not really a theory anymore...but none the less...it was how he came up with the idea in the first place.


So the story goes that he got on this bus and was the sole occupant.  As the bus moved forward he happened to look behind him and there was a large clock he saw.  He instantly wondered what it would be like to move forward while riding a beam of light  and if that changed time at all.  So ok, I'm not even gonna try to pretend that I am smart enough to understand exactly what the idea was or how he came up with the whole space-time thing and bending of light and planetary orbits and how that affects time...etc, etc.  Lets just say that this patent clerk sitting on a bus imagining himself riding a beam of light was pretty cool in and of itself.


That's when I realized that me and Al are not that different.  He obviously had an incredible imagination.  He actually saw himself riding that light.  Sitting on it just as he was the bus chair that was moving away from that grand clock.  Moving forward.  And he could see time change.  And it made him wonder how that happened and if it could be explained.  And his mind never let him let go of that image...seeing himself...straddling light...shooting forward...making time...change.  This image, this dream...it changed his life.


Imagine if you were sitting next to some random man on a bus and he turns to you and says, "Can you imagine that instead of sitting here we were strapped to a beam of light?"  You would probably move to another seat immediately lol.


But his dream.  This wild vision. It birthed in his soul a need to find out what it meant.  He then embarked on this journey of not just scientific discovery but of personal discovery.  Now, truthfully, from what I know about him...he was pretty much an asshole when it came to relationships.  It can be argued that people of such vast intellect just do not posses the ability to relate on an emotional level with us stupid people.  Therein lies our definitive difference.  People like Al are ruled by their mind...there is some break or lack that finds it difficult to tap into the heart whereas those of us lead by our heart are too clouded with emotions to settle our minds down enough to have the focused thoughts necessary to truly think in a clear pattern.  Like what you would need for physics for example.  So while I share in his ability to dream and be imaginative with an almost wild sense...I am different in that I am a heart case while he was clearly a head case.  This is most evident in the existence of the contract he asked his wife to sign requiring her to not just do menial tasks of everyday housework but to agree not to expect affection, attention or physical intimacy from him.  My favorite part was when he required that she not speak to him unless he spoke to her first or to include in their conversation any topics that he was not interested in.  Yeah, nice try lol.


Anyways...


So here's Al...on this bus...riding his beam of light and dreaming.  Dreaming and thinking.  It is said that Al was such an amazing thinker he could sit for hours and days and weeks in the deepest of thought.  Obsessing about an equation.  It makes me wonder if Al had Asbergers. Hmmm.  But he was so driven to find out and figure out how his beam riding could be possible and if it were true that it governed his every thought and consumed him.  What must those days have been like for him?  I can imagine.  There are things that have happened in my life that literally grounded me and forced me to pass enumerable amounts of time deep in thought.  In specific thoughts.  There is a toll it puts on the body.  The stress of the mind.  Your mind goes round and round on this thought.  It, to some degree, changes your body.  Your mind takes over and it is almost like having an out of body experience.  History tells us that he would spend countless hours in his study breaking only to play on his violin, which he said helped him think.  He would play Mozart.

Caught up, in the deep recesses of his mind.  Searching and probing and questioning and thinking and wondering.  This exercise of his mind pulling and stretching his brain to limits most of us will never achieve.  Never escaping from the original dream...riding the light.  I can admire him for this.  While his personal life practically disgusts me his intellectual life makes him soar to mythical proportions.  His personal relationships, that is, with women were so deplorable I think that had it not have been for his scientific discovery Al would be just another asshole guy.  I mean the guy eventually agreed to marry his cousin but remained an unfaithful womanizer for as long as his pecker allowed.  He bargained his way out of his first marriage and pretty much had no emotionally loving significant anything.  And that is sad.


So I write about Al today because I wanted to find a way to humanize and relate to this genius.  And I can.  I can relate to dreaming.  And to being absorbed by a thought that consumes your very soul.  But the biggest lesson I can learn from him is in his failure as a human being.  At the end of the day we can speak of the scientist whose work changed...well...everything.  But the man.  The human.  What can be said of him?  Which do I prefer then?  That at the end of my life the work of my hands and the things I produce, should they be the things that speak for me?  Is my measure of worth wrapped in the dreams I was able to produce into reality?  Or is the work of my heart and who I have been to other people more important?   Some might argue that without his inability to connect to love he may not have possessed the commitment to thought and that would have been the greatest travesty to science and knowledge.  Maybe that's true.  But what about the people who were closest to him.  Can they say they would trade his accomplishments for a moment of true heart connection?  Who knows.


All I know is that I wanna be the Al that rides beams of light...with those I love riding right alongside of me.

Silence is not a term I know very well.  


Even in the places of most quiet I find that there is still the noise of my thoughts.  


I have gone back and forth over what to write about.  There has recently been certain occurrences that merit some type of literary acknowledgement but I have not brought myself to the place where I am able to put words to them.  All I know is that while there is a lot of quiet around me...there is a hell of a lot of noise.


The noise is coming from a place deep inside.  A place of longing.  A place that recognizes that the silence and quiet are only a mask and that bubbling under the surface there is more.  Lots more.  But what that "more" is I am not quite sure of yet.  


My whole life has been filled with moments of searching and understanding.  Trying to understand, is most accurate.  Trying to understand why somehow I always feel one...step...behind.  When I was younger I noticed how, when walking in a group, I never actually walked IN the group...but always a few paces behind.  I remember once as a teenager remarking this to friend.  I can't remember what she said but I remember the exact place in the school hallway I was when I said it.  I remember where she was standing and where the others were standing and how I, noticeably, was out of sync with the rest.  I remember feeling that sense of frustration of "catching up" but not ever really being able to do so because even as I remarked at how fast they always seemed to walk...whatever it was this friend said back to me...was said, BACK to me.  


In my memory now it all fades away and I can't recall what her words to my frustration were or even what my response to her words were.  All I remember is noticing that I was always behind.  Upon graduation, higher levels of learning and other "achievements" in life, that feeling of staying behind has never left me.  Even now, having reached a place in my professional life some would say was "successful"...I know the truth.  I know I am far from that success.  Oh, so far.  


And I know that sitting here...in the quiet...with only the distant voices being raised from my TV  and the louder tap, tap, tap strokes of the keys of my laptop, this seeming quiet is a veil that covers a loud roar.  


I feel that there is so much more to me than I have let out.  


I feel that there is so much more to me than I have let others see.


I feel that there is some great purpose or happening that I am compelled to accomplish or reach or attain or do...but for the life of me I don't know what that is.


Is it to write a book?  I have started and stopped this idea so many times.  Is it to write a song? I have so many.  Is it to achieve some noticed physical work or to discover something others only scoffed at.  I don't know.  


But whatever it is I am supposed to do.  It gets...fuzzy.  It gets....out of reach.  


Because my feet just aren't fast enough to get me there.


Therein lies the dilemma. 


Health, happiness, future...all one step out of reach it seems.  Sometimes I get so close I feel feel it and even smell it.  Sometimes those things I long for are so tantalizingly close I feel that I am just a breath away. Then suddenly the room gets dark again and all color fades out and I am back in the familiar behind spot...just shy of whatever it was I was reaching for.  Back in that hallway at school...trying to keep up.   This can be rather depressing lol.


But something deep in my heart never lets me get to the point where I am left bereft of hope.  Something pushes me to keep going and keep reaching.  Because...it has to be better than this.


This...present....has to be better.  This place I am in...has to be better than this.  Not that its horrible.  Not that its great either.  But it just has to be better.  


A fear has just been revealed.  What if, upon reaching the "better" it is not the "best"?  And I become one of those people always wanting the more out of a life filled with more? 


 I don't think I could ever be one of those. 


 All I know is that these words go out across the universe.  One day someone reading this will know the feeling.  They will identify with these sullen words and say, yes, I know what she feels like.  


And maybe they will stop by and have coffee...and we can have a chat about it.


That would be nice.

Doin' It Well...

I figure that anything worth doing is worth doing well.

This is a saying that holds a lot of truth.  I realize that I do this in most everything I commit to.  I have found that when I'm doing a project, I obsess about its "perfection".  I want to make sure I'm all in.  My mother used to tell me that I was an "extremist".  That I would over-do many things.

God love her, but I know she meant that as a criticism.  As I have gotten older I realize that maybe its not such a bad thing.  After all, I think it shows a certain level of character when a person puts forth their entire effort into something.  I've just never been a casual....anything!

I'm just not built to be a causal friend, girl friend, employee, etc, etc.  Everything I do I jump head first and make a wholehearted effort to give it my all in order to produce the best result.  Maybe that's why people say I'm kind of intense lol.  But wouldn't it be better to have someone like that on your side?  I had a guy tell me once that the "problem" with me was that I was an "all or nothing" kind of girl and that maybe I should be more "relaxed".

What????  What the hell does that mean?  This makes no sense.

And when you're talking about relationships with people, friends or more, do you really want someone who is not interested in being interested in you "all that much" but just "somewhat" or enough to be perceived as still "relaxed"?

Where has the passion for things gone?  Where has dedication and excellence?

Maybe that's why I'm so tired all the time...cause all the well I'm doing....is doing me in  lol

Gut feeling...Why I should always listen to you.

A while back I wrote about how I was adopting the philosophy of "Silence is Golden".  I decided that this was more than just a genius statement but a phrase that I would add to the list of phrases that I would use to shape my life.


But because I have the habit of second guessing myself, I went against this "rule" of silence.  And opened my damn mouth.  


There have been moments in my life where I have been proud of speaking out and saying what I feel is right to say at the time.  I am not usually a person of regret.  I feel that if I spoke at the time, then it was appropriate for the moment... consequences come what may.  I don't usually shy away from speaking what I consider to be "truths".


But my gut, my very soul, shouted out in loud unavoidable words of caution to keep silent.  Did I? No. Instead I listened to others.  I have wonderful people in my life.  People I trust and whose guidance is imperative to my growth.  But boy did they get it wrong.


I KNEW I should listen to the warning in my heart and stay silent...at least for a longer period of time.  I am learning that I sometimes the best person to glean advice from...is myself.  My gut.  My heart.  While it can be misleading at times, for the most part, when coupled with prayer and wisdom, it never leads me astray.

So nothing Earth-shattering happened other than a small change in the way I deal with something in particular. But that small change has created a need for larger changes.  And so the rippling effect is alive and active.  That one small change has rippled across my life and its effect is sending out waves of difference and change in other parts of my life.  I can say that it is good.  And yes, even in some ways, not so good.


But the waves keep getting bigger.  There is no stopping them now.  My gut tells me to ride the waves and appreciate that these changes are doing me well.  But I miss what was.  I miss it a lot.  And there is no going back.


Wish I knew how to surf...fml lol

Promise Breaking

Today I broke a promise to myself.

I swore the most holy of swearing (is that even correct grammar?) that I would NEVER, EVER, EVER do this thing I said I would NEVER do! (is this even a correct sentence?)

But because I feel that I am reaching a critical level (insert LOL here) I broke down and went against myself and broke my own promise.  I am not usually a promise breaker.  I feel that your yes, should be yes and your no, should be no.  The end. Period. There should be no going back and forth about things.  This behavior gets me into trouble under other circumstances.  But this feels different.  IDKY, so I can't provide an adequate answer.

Something this morning told me that maybe I was being ridiculous and should open my mind up to the possibility that I should do this thing once more.  So I did.

We'll see if I regret it :) Oh, God....I hope I don't.

Houston...We have a Problem...well, not anymore!

This morning I was about to sign on to my email when an internet news banner caught my eye, "NASA launches Space Shuttle on Historic Final Mission".  


I don't know what provoked me to click on it and read it, maybe it was the word "Final".  I found this strange because they couldn't actually mean the final, FINAL launch, could they?  Well, that's exactly what it meant.


When I was a kid there was a certain wonder about being an astronaut.  Often times you would hear kids say  in class on career day, "When I grow up, I want to be an astronaut!"  Of course it did not have the same resounding effect being an astronaut once had years before my time when the idea that men in space was something out of a comic book.  Astronauts were seen as some type of super hero or mystical demi-god who possessed the power to leave the Earth we know and bounce up and down on the moon. By the time I sat in my elementary school class in the 80's being an astronaut still held a bit of clout.  I mean, for those of us who remember, even MTV had a cool moon man jumping across your screen before your favorite music video.


Well, much like MTV killed the radio (and video) star, we have now killed the space launch program.  I'm not sure why this bothered me enough to inspire me to write about it but I guess it got me thinking.  Human beings are so fickle.  In a time where scientists somehow inserted "vitamins" in bread and called it Wonder Bread and high speed communication was limited to rotary phones and the U.S. Mail system space travel was a gargantuan human accomplishment.  It was a HUGE deal.  It was Americas shinny new toy.  Kids loved the idea that somewhere up in the sky, not only was there a bird and a plane, but there was an American Astronaut floating in outer space looking down at them.  

So why are we so fickle? Because technology now makes everything faster, better, smoother. Why would we want to see a huge, rickety, noisy, clunking machine that looks much like it did way back in the day roar to a start to take pictures we can easily see from the comfort of a lab with a high powered telescope that can download the info to the internet? Technology has killed technology.  I don't think the men who started the space program would have ever thought they would be considered out of date!  And yet, to some degree they are.  We don't need to put any human at risk on an explosive with wings anymore.  We can see what we need with satellites and such.  We can see farther, do more and research more without ever having to leave our seats or worry about gravity.  It was fun while the shinny new toy was the "it" toy, but now its collecting dust under Americas bed along with board games and your old Atari.


It's kinda sad, don't you think?


How is it that the space program was "struggling" in their budget thus making it difficult to keep going?  How is it that parts of the shuttle seem to fly off or things go wrong on it thus delaying a launch or making it too dangerous to fly when we can develop more sophisticated video games that kids can play when they are 3?  Today, for example, I witnessed a 2 year old playing with a TOY laptop that can actually receive email!!!  And yet, we can't have a space launch without some part falling off and landing in someone's backyard.  And the person who finds said part looks at it with bored expressions and yawns.  I am the first to admit that I am not a card-carrying member of the Save the Shuttle team, but its sad that today is the last time anyone will ever say, "T minus 10, 9, 8..." when in relation to the shuttle.


What is it about us as a society that gets bored so quickly, even about things that are amazing?  We are always into moving on, letting go and tossing aside the thing that doesn't move as fast as we'd like it too. We are always on a constant search for the upgrade.  This behavior trickles into everything in our lives.   From old friends that can't keep up with our new lifestyles to relationships that are not compatible with our new "system". It seems like we are constantly looking for something new to play with at the risk of loosing something gargantuan.  We sacrifice the things that we have now; things that have brought us joy, things that have taught us so much and things that have taken us to places we've never been before, for something that produces a new feeling of thrill.  I've seen it everywhere.  


Why go to the movies when I can download it onto my I-Pad and watch it while I wait in line at the grocery store?  Why get out of the house in the sunshine to a park and exercise when I can sit on my couch and vigorously move my arms up and down to trick my Wii into thinking I'm moving and exercising? (C'mon, you can't say you haven't done that!) Why have a conversation and check on my friend who's been having a hard time when I can text them and have a conversation like this, "Wut up?" "Not Much" "U Gd?" "Yep" "K, ttyl".

We've lost our understanding and appreciation of the things 
that once brought us wonder.

With the launch of this final shuttle mission I think a lot of things will be lost forever.  Will kids ever grow up with the amazement of space shuttle in their eyes?  Will kids like my niece and nephew ever really appreciate how amazing going into space really is, even if it was in that big, clunky machine?  I wonder...and worry.


In closing I made a decision.  I'm going to try to keep those things that I know are great in my life and "upgrade" myself.  I'm going to try to leave well-enough alone but strive to make me into a better me.  I'm going to appreciate the "old timers" in my life and try not to push a change that doesn't need to be there.  


And finally, I'm going to say good bye to an American icon, the Space Shuttle, you may be out dated to some, but you will forever leave an impression on me. Good luck and Godspeed! 

Space Shuttle Atlantis Final Take-Off, July 8, 2011

WHERE did you get that from exactly?

I have been asked many times if my blog posts are things that I am actually going through or if they are about any thing (or anyone) specific.

I find these questions amusing.

But the honest answer is that my postings are specifically and non-specifically about me.  Some of them have been inspired by things I have heard that happen to other people. I just try to identify with it and write something as if I was the one experiencing that moment.  Other posts are definitely about me, all about me, in every way.

How do you distinguish between the posts that are the REAL me and from the ones that are not?

You don't.

My goal is to get out all the stuff I have in this brain of mine.  So when I hear about someone else's tales of love and woe, perhaps it sparks in me a sentiment that I feel the need to express onto and through the written word...well, the typed word.  Or maybe I had a conversation or an experience with someone or something and I just HAD to write about it...with my own twisted and colorful expressions added to it, just for fun.

The bottom line is, don't try to figure out if this is really how I feel about anything you read here.  If you want to know, you can ask.

However, there is no guarantee that my answer will be from the REAL me or the me that wrote supposed experience.

Ahh, the beauty of mystery.

Who, What, Where, When, Why, How...

Who does he think he is?

Who does he think he's fooling?

Who does he try to hid this from when its so obvious to me?

Who am I kidding...

What words do I avoid saying before I can't hold them in any longer?

What feelings do I hide before they start being evident on my face?

What signs do I ignore until the billboard falls on top of my car?

What looks do I give that force the mask I've been wearing to fall off?

Where does my heart go when my mind thinks about those things I've been trying to block?

Where is the rescue crew to save me from falling in love?

Where did all my sense go?

Where have all these questions come from when I wasn't asking any questions?

When do I stop telling myself, "That's not what you feel"?

When do I decide its time?

When is the right time to just go for it?

When is the moment I admit to myself that I cannot hide it any longer?

Why is it called "falling in" and not "lifted into"?
Why is it that when I try to think about something else, my brain doesn't cooperate?
Why do I smile still...hours later?
Why does my heart race, even after all this time?


How close to the edge can I get before I fall over?
How far can I reach before I slip?
How much can I lean before the wall gives out?
How hard can I press before my heart breaks?

Seesaw

When I was a kid....I never rode the seesaw.

 I just never saw the point.  I mean, it really didn't do anything but what I would consider as tempting fate with your life!  Up and down you went...while "stationary" at the same time. How people considered this as fun still confuses me today.  And it wasn't something you could do alone...you always needed a partner.  WHO your partner was exactly determined what kind of "riding experience" you had.  Say, if your partner was on the, ahem, "heaftier" side, your ass could be propelled up to the sky in one swift stomach-dropping motion while you try not to let go of the small handle bar in front of you.  This scenario proved to be most unfortunate should your partner decide to get off the seesaw once they realized that you do not possess the weight requirements to shoot their pleasantly plump rear up in response to your weightless propulsion toward zero gravity.

Down you would fall...gasping for breath as your lungs, liver, spleen and pancreas were left floating above the body that has plummeted to the earth.  And you know what happens next, don't you?  The spine shattering "thud" in response to the seesaw end you are sitting on crashing down.  How this playground "fun" ride was not banned is beyond me.  Assuming you survive this experience to ever grow up and have children there are still those stupid enough to get back on and try again, hoping that THIS time, they will find a partner most suited for the ride.

And so it is with certain relationships.  Up and down they go.  You hope that this person sitting on the other end of your relationship seesaw meets the physical and emotional requirements that should make for a "pleasant" and/or "joyous" riding experience.  But somewhere between the distraction of finding someone who's willing to ride with us and getting them somehow to sit down for the ride we lose sight of the fact that they do not posses the qualities necessary to make for a "smooth ride".  And just when you think you got it under control, your ass goes shooting up faster than you can say, "Wanna play?".  Then, when your partner realizes that YOU are NOT of adequate proportions to provide them with a ride that reciprocates the energy, time and effort they used to shoot you up there...they bail.  And you come falling down, down, down.



Crash



Break



Fall



Ouch



Yet even with all of that....we want to go again.  And sometimes...with the same partner.  No matter how bruised, battered or beat up we get when that partner bails on us and we fall miserably to the ground, we my friends, are gluttons for punishment.  The old partner is one thing, but a new ride partner is almost scarier.  At least with the old one you know what you're dealing with.  This new person may walk up to the ride with you and bail right there.  Or maybe they get on but before you can even move the damn seesaw they change their mind!  Or how about the partner that goes for a few passes with you and then prefers to ride with the person in the next seesaw cause he likes her "riding technique" (lol).

So why bother even getting on this stupid ride?  Why waste time, energy, and hey, let's face it, a nice ass on something that could potentially bring lots of pain, bruising and trauma?

Why?

Because its worth that risk.  I hate to admit that.  I hate to admit that putting yourself out there and laying it all on the line is the most dangerous and risky thing anyone could do.  But without that heart pounding, ear splitting, nerve wracking, nausea inducing fear that pulsates through your body when you take the risk...my God, you would never know what it feels like to feel your heart beat!

So...

Let the games begin.

Wanna Play?

Silence is Golden?

My best friend reminded me of this today.

It wasn't to me she said this.  It wasn't even meant for me.  But when she said it...I took it.

I decided to use it because of the battle I am in right now.

I haven't battled like this in a while...its nice.

But its a battle none the less.  One to which I am sure to lose if I go against this "Silence is Golden" concept.

Am I really sure of this though?

What could be the worst possible thing that would happen 

if I open up my mouth and say:

Time stands still in the presence of one so great.
The words fail me even as they reach my lips.
I am overcome and overwhelmed with the realization of you.
All matter and semblance of stability melts away as 
I am flung back and forth by the waves of this current.


Logical sense has been tossed out along with rules and norms.
All that remains is my pulse, completely out of sync.
Filled with more questions than I have answers 
and more answers to questions I don't want answers to.


I pull back.
Or so I think.


Only to realize that pulling back means denying 
what I am being pulled towards.
The mask is thick with past remarks.
This mask is getting heavier.


Silence shouts out to me in words so loud 
my ear drums play their words on rhythmic tones.
My heart beats and my hands sweat.
What I know is that I shouldn't....or do I know this really?
The confusion is like honey on my lips and fuel in an engine 
that has been dead for years.


But I am paralyzed to speak.
I cannot.
I will smile with my mask on.
And no one will ever see the tears in my eyes.


Oh sweet feeling....
Oh tempestuous experience....
Oh joyful emotion....
Oh blatant denial....


Ne're do I choose one extreme over the other lest I lose it all.  
Sitting in this in-between warm bath of indecision may prove lonelinesses death trap.
But the water is too comfortable to disturb...


For now.