Excelsior.
Silver Linings Playbook may be one of the best movies ever made. It's a romance movie without sex scenes, a comedy full of realism, an inspiration to those who've yet to reach ever upward, and a classic for everyone. What I love about this film is that it reminds me oddly of The Great Gatsby (the book), but it removes all the negative connotations of that tragedy's ending. It champions, yet destroys the closing line of the novel: "Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by
year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no
matter—to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . .
And one fine morning——So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” Aim higher. Reach farther. Strive towards the future with everything in you. Yes. But here Silver Linings changes the story. If you aim higher, you will go higher. If you reach farther, you will grasp your future. SLP makes you believe these things.
Don't get me wrong, The Great Gatsby is one of my favorite novels and Fitzgerald, one of my favorite authors, but if he's right, and all we're doing is striving for our past, never to achieve anything in the future, then what are we to do? Do we just stop reaching? Do we give up all hope? Do we lose faith in everyone and everything? Is life a lose-lose situation?
I refuse to believe that.
People have accomplished amazing things, and people are accomplishing more amazing things every fucking day. There IS hope for a brighter future, for things to change for the better, for a way to escape a horrific past. I agree with the writers of SLP that you can achieve a silver lining. Always. Because if you can't, then I don't see how life is worth living. And it is. It's so worth it. It's worth enduring all the fights, the fucked up relationships, the tragedy, the horror. Because that silver lining triumphs over all that shit.
To quote Pat, the main character of the film, "The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday. That's guaranteed. I
can't begin to explain that. Or the craziness inside myself and
everyone else. But guess what? Sunday's my favorite day again. I think
of what everyone did for me, and I feel like a very lucky guy." What if the world thought like that? What if everyone had that mentality and lived their life with excelsior as their motto? What if everyone believed in achievement? What if everyone fought for their own silver lining?
"You have to do everything you
can, you have to work your hardest, and if you do, you have a shot at a
silver lining."
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Power Yoga
This morning in yoga, I realized how whiny and wimpy I was at 2:00AM last night when I wrote my last post. So, apologies. What I DON'T want this blog to become is a place where I simply dump all my emotions because I don't want to deal with them. This is where I want to grow as a writer/person and just put my ideas, thoughts, and passions out there. So: no more complaining.*fingers crossed*.
I also realized this morning in yoga that life is too short. There's not enough time for me to be so caught up in how others make me feel. There's not enough time for me to keep wishing things were different when it's in my power to make them different. There are plenty of relationships in my life that I've simply given up on, or refuse to face. And why? So that when I'm on my deathbed, I can look back and wish I'd done something? That's a pathetic way to live. No, I've decided to give those friendships, romances, whatever, everything I've got. I mean, what the hell? Why not? Life's short, but it's full of opportunities just dangling in front of me. I refuse to be too lazy to seize what's within my reach, and will reach for what's beyond it. How else will I be able to say I gave everything I had to life?
I'm not really sure what brought all this on, since it is an extremely unusual surge of optimism in my characteristically pessimistic stream of consciousness. I guess it's just one of the positive side effects of getting up at 7:00AM to go to power yoga (in addition to getting a workout). Something about yoga clears my often scattered thoughts and sometimes forms coherent sentences in my brain, and I'm glad I've found that out recently. Here's to hoping it will keep the positive thoughts coming...
Cheers.
I also realized this morning in yoga that life is too short. There's not enough time for me to be so caught up in how others make me feel. There's not enough time for me to keep wishing things were different when it's in my power to make them different. There are plenty of relationships in my life that I've simply given up on, or refuse to face. And why? So that when I'm on my deathbed, I can look back and wish I'd done something? That's a pathetic way to live. No, I've decided to give those friendships, romances, whatever, everything I've got. I mean, what the hell? Why not? Life's short, but it's full of opportunities just dangling in front of me. I refuse to be too lazy to seize what's within my reach, and will reach for what's beyond it. How else will I be able to say I gave everything I had to life?
I'm not really sure what brought all this on, since it is an extremely unusual surge of optimism in my characteristically pessimistic stream of consciousness. I guess it's just one of the positive side effects of getting up at 7:00AM to go to power yoga (in addition to getting a workout). Something about yoga clears my often scattered thoughts and sometimes forms coherent sentences in my brain, and I'm glad I've found that out recently. Here's to hoping it will keep the positive thoughts coming...
Cheers.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Brain Love
I am cursed. Cursed with the unfortunate fate of falling in love with anyone I can't have and anyone who doesn't want me. I've even been in serious relationships with these types of guys (well, one, really, which I'm still reeling from even though it's been 2 months since the breakup). My problem is that I am both a left-brained person AND a right-brained person. Example? My current majors are Biology and English... My passion? Creative writing, poetry, short stories, writing, editing. Yet, I'm almost as adept at thinking analytically and scientifically (hence the Biology double major). It is my belief that this right/left brainedness stems from a lifelong obsession with dancing, but to get to the point, this duality of brain function has some extreme disadvantages, the most important one being its effect on my love life.
To elaborate a little: I'm constantly trying to differentiate between the idealistic and the realistic. Although I am a pessimist and thoroughly enjoy being cynical and sarcastic, my idealistic nature continually kicks in and I begin to dream of the unrealistic. I can't help it. Especially when it comes to guys. I can imagine whole fantasies, worlds where I do something daring and outrageous and suddenly every guy I've ever wanted wants me too. Then, my realism kicks in, reminding me, "But those things will never happen. Stop dreaming. It will only hurt you." The problem is, I can't give in to either side. I'm incapable of succumbing to either half and remain dangling in the middle instead, confused, frustrated, hurt, and ultimately alone.
And I thought I found someone who understood that. Who went through the very same thing. Who promised me I would never be alone. Who promised the idealistic life of my dreams. Who convinced me he was "the one." But I was wrong. He was wrong. He proved to me once again how I will never attain what half of my brain practically drives me crazy longing for. Correction: I was wrong in believing we would always be together, however I am still convinced that he is and will always be the only one for me. Call it cheesy, old-fashioned, whatever the fuck you want, but I firmly believe in "the one." I don't know, maybe that's just my romantically inclined brain-half talking, but that doesn't change the fact I'm convinced it's true. There is one perfect match for everyone out there and once you find each other, you just know, and things will always work out. I refuse to believe in a world where true love doesn't exist. Sure life will still shit on you every day and you might even end things for a short while, but in the end, true love will out and bring you back to one another. But they never tell you what happens when your true love decides he doesn't know what love is. Or decides that there is no "one," at least until he meets her. The whole fucking time you convinced yourself that he sincerely believed everything he said to you. Sure, you fought, you wanted to strangle him sometimes, but hey, he was "the one." Things would work out. And they did. Until they didn't.
So what do you do now? Fight for someone who's decided you just aren't worth it anymore? Who's decided that maybe love is the stuff of fantasy and they've never really felt it? Fighting for them means destroying yourself in the process, and that rational part of your brain tells you you can't destroy yourself. You're too selfish to do that. No, you'll choose the other route. The one that makes no fucking sense to anyone, especially to yourself, but the one that is easy because you're a coward. What road is that you ask? The one where you allow your idealistic self to imagine a world where things continued like they were, so blissful, caught up in your love for one another, believing anything was possible, feeling safe, wanted, and most of all loved. But choosing this road means you can never tell "the one." It means you will never get back together. Why? Because you'll never let them go. Your cowardly self will hold on to your soulmate no matter what, even if they break their promise to do the same. And if you never let them go, you dissolve into a world of "I wish..." and "What if..." and "If only...". And once you're in that world, you're trapped. You never escape. You drown in self-induced misery. You're deafened by your own screams. And who can love someone like that? No one with half a brain.
To elaborate a little: I'm constantly trying to differentiate between the idealistic and the realistic. Although I am a pessimist and thoroughly enjoy being cynical and sarcastic, my idealistic nature continually kicks in and I begin to dream of the unrealistic. I can't help it. Especially when it comes to guys. I can imagine whole fantasies, worlds where I do something daring and outrageous and suddenly every guy I've ever wanted wants me too. Then, my realism kicks in, reminding me, "But those things will never happen. Stop dreaming. It will only hurt you." The problem is, I can't give in to either side. I'm incapable of succumbing to either half and remain dangling in the middle instead, confused, frustrated, hurt, and ultimately alone.
And I thought I found someone who understood that. Who went through the very same thing. Who promised me I would never be alone. Who promised the idealistic life of my dreams. Who convinced me he was "the one." But I was wrong. He was wrong. He proved to me once again how I will never attain what half of my brain practically drives me crazy longing for. Correction: I was wrong in believing we would always be together, however I am still convinced that he is and will always be the only one for me. Call it cheesy, old-fashioned, whatever the fuck you want, but I firmly believe in "the one." I don't know, maybe that's just my romantically inclined brain-half talking, but that doesn't change the fact I'm convinced it's true. There is one perfect match for everyone out there and once you find each other, you just know, and things will always work out. I refuse to believe in a world where true love doesn't exist. Sure life will still shit on you every day and you might even end things for a short while, but in the end, true love will out and bring you back to one another. But they never tell you what happens when your true love decides he doesn't know what love is. Or decides that there is no "one," at least until he meets her. The whole fucking time you convinced yourself that he sincerely believed everything he said to you. Sure, you fought, you wanted to strangle him sometimes, but hey, he was "the one." Things would work out. And they did. Until they didn't.
So what do you do now? Fight for someone who's decided you just aren't worth it anymore? Who's decided that maybe love is the stuff of fantasy and they've never really felt it? Fighting for them means destroying yourself in the process, and that rational part of your brain tells you you can't destroy yourself. You're too selfish to do that. No, you'll choose the other route. The one that makes no fucking sense to anyone, especially to yourself, but the one that is easy because you're a coward. What road is that you ask? The one where you allow your idealistic self to imagine a world where things continued like they were, so blissful, caught up in your love for one another, believing anything was possible, feeling safe, wanted, and most of all loved. But choosing this road means you can never tell "the one." It means you will never get back together. Why? Because you'll never let them go. Your cowardly self will hold on to your soulmate no matter what, even if they break their promise to do the same. And if you never let them go, you dissolve into a world of "I wish..." and "What if..." and "If only...". And once you're in that world, you're trapped. You never escape. You drown in self-induced misery. You're deafened by your own screams. And who can love someone like that? No one with half a brain.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Minimum
The other day I was eating breakfast after French class with one of my friends, and our conversation turned to a topic I thoroughly enjoy-- studying abroad. My goal (a very impractical and unrealistic one, but an important one to have all the same) is to study abroad this summer, preferably in the UK. While this may be impossible to arrange for this coming summer, given that I lack the dough and am currently unemployed, I will nevertheless strive after my goal with all my pathetic little heart simply because I am sick of America and want to see the world.
Anyway, at some point during our conversation, my friend and I agreed that the European way of life is superior to Americans'. My reasoning? Europeans, or rather, my stereotype of Europeans, are minimalists. They don't buy what they don't need, unlike Americans, who buy everything they don't need simply because they're greedy, bored, or someone convinces them they should. Europeans, or at least the Brits, realize that they don't need what they can't have, and choose to spend their time utilizing the shit they do have and spending their money on more worthwhile endeavors.
So, my second goal, in addition to studying abroad this summer, is to become a minimalist. When I return home for Thanksgiving, I've decided that I'm going to take the time to go through literally ALL my possessions and throw at least 50% of them out, or give them to charity. I honestly don't need about 95% of the shit accumulating in my room, but for now I'm setting a reasonable goal for the near future. Hopefully by Christmas, I'll have realized that I miss nothing I've gotten rid of and I will be able to eliminate another 25%, or 50%, if I'm feeling ambitious. I've also just had the brilliant idea of asking for the funds to study abroad for Christmas instead of a bunch of extra pointless shit I don't need and whose acquisition will only prove counterproductive in my attempts to transform into a minimalist.
My stereotype of the Europeans, or specifically, the Brits, are drawn largely from my favorite aforementioned British YouTube vlogger Alex Day, who is probably the epitome of a minimalist. A few years ago, he got rid of all his clothes except for a few t-shirts and pants (3 of each I believe). In addition, the guy owns nothing he doesn't use/need apart from gifts from friends. The guy doesn't even own a metal frame for his mattress. But really? Does he need one? Do we all need one? No. Why are we so obsessed with wanting things that we don't need?
Anyway, since I idolize Alex for many other things, I've added being a superb minimalist to the list and aim to follow in his footsteps this Thanksgiving. In doing this, I will (hopefully) become more like the culture I strive to be a part of, de-clutter my life and be able to think more clearly about everything, bring someone else joy, and bring myself joy.
My one snag (and I look forward to this area of de-cluttering with dread) will be clothes. Fashion, or at least my sense of it, is something I rarely enjoy sacrificing, but in the name of improving myself, I fear it must be done. It is time. After all, fashion is just something else that steals away precious time and brain capacity. I want to get rid of all those little hogs-- all the frivolous and superfluous foo-foos in my life that distract me from the greater things: like becoming who I am meant to become and seeing the world. So, here's to my attempt at changing my own fate and creating a minimum me. Let's hope this ambition sticks better than the one where I said I would blog every fucking day (something I may actually be able to do after I declutter my life).
Cheers.
Anyway, at some point during our conversation, my friend and I agreed that the European way of life is superior to Americans'. My reasoning? Europeans, or rather, my stereotype of Europeans, are minimalists. They don't buy what they don't need, unlike Americans, who buy everything they don't need simply because they're greedy, bored, or someone convinces them they should. Europeans, or at least the Brits, realize that they don't need what they can't have, and choose to spend their time utilizing the shit they do have and spending their money on more worthwhile endeavors.
So, my second goal, in addition to studying abroad this summer, is to become a minimalist. When I return home for Thanksgiving, I've decided that I'm going to take the time to go through literally ALL my possessions and throw at least 50% of them out, or give them to charity. I honestly don't need about 95% of the shit accumulating in my room, but for now I'm setting a reasonable goal for the near future. Hopefully by Christmas, I'll have realized that I miss nothing I've gotten rid of and I will be able to eliminate another 25%, or 50%, if I'm feeling ambitious. I've also just had the brilliant idea of asking for the funds to study abroad for Christmas instead of a bunch of extra pointless shit I don't need and whose acquisition will only prove counterproductive in my attempts to transform into a minimalist.
My stereotype of the Europeans, or specifically, the Brits, are drawn largely from my favorite aforementioned British YouTube vlogger Alex Day, who is probably the epitome of a minimalist. A few years ago, he got rid of all his clothes except for a few t-shirts and pants (3 of each I believe). In addition, the guy owns nothing he doesn't use/need apart from gifts from friends. The guy doesn't even own a metal frame for his mattress. But really? Does he need one? Do we all need one? No. Why are we so obsessed with wanting things that we don't need?
Anyway, since I idolize Alex for many other things, I've added being a superb minimalist to the list and aim to follow in his footsteps this Thanksgiving. In doing this, I will (hopefully) become more like the culture I strive to be a part of, de-clutter my life and be able to think more clearly about everything, bring someone else joy, and bring myself joy.
My one snag (and I look forward to this area of de-cluttering with dread) will be clothes. Fashion, or at least my sense of it, is something I rarely enjoy sacrificing, but in the name of improving myself, I fear it must be done. It is time. After all, fashion is just something else that steals away precious time and brain capacity. I want to get rid of all those little hogs-- all the frivolous and superfluous foo-foos in my life that distract me from the greater things: like becoming who I am meant to become and seeing the world. So, here's to my attempt at changing my own fate and creating a minimum me. Let's hope this ambition sticks better than the one where I said I would blog every fucking day (something I may actually be able to do after I declutter my life).
Cheers.
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