everybody has a plan, until they get punched in the face.
he wants me. i want you. you want her. and she is probably a lesbian…
if you find someone to be on the same page with, you do it. even if that page you are on is really short, you experience it. you do this because it may never come again, or it may not last forever (like you thought it would). you embrace the time when someone is just as enthusiastic about you, as you are about them. because for most of the time, you will be chasing the tail of someone, chasing the tail of someone else.
if you can embrace your true connections when they arise and peacefully bid adieu to them when they fall a part, you will understand what it means to have shared your life. you will find that those rare moments when your soul aligns with another, it may not last a lifetime, but it will surely change your life.
the concept of sharing my life with someone versus spending my life with someone has been hard for me to grasp, being a woman who thrives as an independent. but i am learning and that is just fine, because like mike said: everybody has a plan, until they get punched in the face.
“Look is defined by color, scale, proportion, typography, and motion. Feel is experiential and emotional.”
— ABBOTT MILLER
My car clock is an hour behind, yet 15 minutes fast; My bedroom clock is 20 minutes slow; My kitchen clock is 8 minutes fast; and all of my computers are always set for central time (thus an hour behind).
This sounds like the start of a mathematical problem and I that is sort of the point. Time dictates almost all of our daily actions, everyday. Knowing what “time it is” directly effects what we are about to do or even sometimes what we should be doing. I am disgruntled to admit that time plays a huge role in my life.
I feel that I am not in minority when saying that, most days, time is most certainty not on my side (sorry Rolling Stones, I think you lied). I absolutely loathe that time controls my schedule. I do what I want, when I want (but not really).
Having my clocks set at the incorrect time, and all at different intervals, makes me feel that I have a one-up on Miss Time and our society’s obsession with her.
BUT WHY!? Well one, because I am abnormal (obviously) but more importantly, because if I want to look at a clock, to see what time it is, there is some work involved. It is easy, too easy sometimes, to glance at the clock and within seconds know the time. We habitually watch the clock all day. And by doing this, we are subconsciously keeping time on our mind - ALL THE TIME.
However when I want to know the time, I have to first remember at what interval that given clock is running at (okay it’s the bedroom clock, which runs 20 minutes slow). From there I do the math to get the “correct time” (this, minus this, equals this). It seems rather silly, I know this. But in the end, these extra steps that I purposely set-up for myself act as useful deterrents.
Just because time so often controls my when and where - it does not need to control my every second (insert word pun here). Thus, these extra steps make me stop and think before looking at what time it is. AKA: do I really need to know what time it is or do I just want to know. My rational simply being: if I don’t need to know what time it is, then the extra steps are not worth it.
Utilizing time as an effective apparatus vs. Hosting a symbiotic relationship with time
The dismal fact is that self-respect has nothing to do with the approval of others — who are, after all, deceived easily enough; has nothing to do with reputation, which, as Rhett Butler told Scarlett O’Hara, is something people with courage can do without.
To do without self-respect, on the other hand, is to be an unwilling audience of one to an interminable documentary that deals with one’s failings, both real and imagined, with fresh footage spliced in for every screening. There’s the glass you broke in anger, there’s the hurt on X’s face; watch now, this next scene, the night Y came back from Houston, see how you muff this one. To live without self-respect is to lie awake some night, beyond the reach of warm milk, the Phenobarbital, and the sleeping hand on the coverlet, counting up the sins of commissions and omission, the trusts betrayed, the promises subtly broken, the gifts irrevocably wasted through sloth or cowardice, or carelessness. However long we postpone it, we eventually lie down alone in that notoriously uncomfortable bed, the one we make ourselves. Whether or not we sleep in it depends, of course, on whether or not we respect ourselves.
-Joan Didion on self-respect
My entire life people have spit Forrest Gump quotes at me. I get it, my name is Jenny and I am blonde, I get it.
Although I have yet to actually do so, my initial reaction (without fail) is to punch the person reciting Forrest Gump directly in the head. Really hard. What’s weird is that I actually like the movie Forrest Gump.
I am thankful for this past weekend, where I organized every button of my studio, it’s no longer a black-hole; filtered my closet + library collection, now unused items will be cherished by new owners; engaged in some much-needed release; realized how truly wonderful some beings in my life are; and distanced myself from those who need to be at a distance.
Embracing a new mentality feels so incredible that today even a Forrest Gump quote spurred something positive out of me.
