Lucky

So I actually finished Lucky by Alice Sebold almost 5 days ago but I'm just getting around to writing about it because it kind of took me out of emotional commission for a little bit. It was like a huge emotional overhaul and I just had to sit and stew on it for a while before I could move on. Although I guess that's the whole point of this journal thing is to deal with that...Ok so maybe I was just procrastinating and I don't like talking about my emotions (kind of like Alice...which I'm going to get to.)

So the actual catalyst for this post is the fact that I just found out this girl I went to Spain with this summer is now a freshman at Syracuse University where this book takes place/where Alice Sebold was raped when she was a freshman. And I know it's kind of ridiculous to worry about but I'm a worrier. It's just one of those really weird coincidences that's freaking me out a little bit. I mean of all the schools in the country for a girl from SD to go to, and of all the days I find out. It's just bizarre.

So I don't really know how to go about this. I have a bunch of places in the book marked so I'm just going to go through them and write about them as I come across them because of course this book was hard to read. It's about a girl around my age being brutally raped and she discusses everything in vivid detail and I'm one of those readers that is there with her. I am laying on that cold cement with broken glass digging into my back, I'm sitting in that courtroom with her being heartlessly cross-examined by a man who shouldn't ever be let inside a courtroom.

Firstly I want to state that I loved this book for all its difficultness. It's a hard subject matter and I have so much respect for Alice Sebold to not only write about it but about her own rape. It's a beautiful book in a weird kind of twisted way. My favorite part actually is how she doesn't mince anything. She lays it all out on the table from the very start. You open up the cover and *BAM* she hits you with it and you know exactly what you're getting yourself into. She doesn't hold back at all. And when she talks about her rape with her father she tells him to call It what It is, rape, and not that thing that happened or anything other than that. She lets it all hang out.

I find it kind of...funny (for lack of a better word) that she doesn't convey her emotions in her writing though. But I also understand and she mentions a couple of times how she was doing her best not to feel anything at the time: right before her preliminary trial (or whatever it is, I don't understand court proceedings) her rape crisis center counselor is trying to get her to talk and she says "She wanted me to feel. I didn't see how feeling was going to do me any good. Onondaga Country Courthouse was not a place to open up. It was a place to hold fast to what I knew to be the truth. I had to work at keeping every fact alive and available" and again after her trial she talks about why her parents weren't present, "I was nineteen and ornery. I was afraid of their comfort, that to feel anything was to feel weak." Two things from these. One, she's very analytical about everything. She focuses solely on the facts (also apparent throughout the rest of the book) instead of how she feels about any of it. When she sees her rapist again she doesn't think about how she's feeling but she focuses on his description so she can repeat it and have a picture drawn up. She lets her need to have him behind bars drive her and focuses her energy on that and collecting all the facts she needs to do that. And two, I'm reminded of myself in her refusal to show her feelings and weaknesses. While I've never been through anything nearly as traumatic I still hide my emotional weakness to everyone so they assume I'm doing fine. It's stupid really because sometimes what you need is someone to talk to and be there for you but they won't be there unless they know you need it but I never let them know because that's showing weakness and I hate that. I think Alice sees it as a man's world and in order to survive in a man's world you can't show your weakness and give away all your emotions because nobody will take you serious and that's basically how I feel. I thought about how I would react and think it'd be close to Alice's reaction. She felt compelled in the aftermath to show everyone she hadn't changed and she was the same person even though that wasn't true. We don't want to be labeled as Damaged Goods. And of course this whole need to carry on and pretend things are all right when your world seams to be crumbling around you reminds me of a song:

You gotta swim
And swim when it hurts
The whole world is watching
You haven't come this far
To fall off the earth
The currents will pull you
Away from your love
Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave
Begging to tear down the dawn
Memories like bullets
They fired at me from a gun
A crack in the armor
I swim to brighter days
Despite the absence of sun
Choking on salt water
I'm not giving in
I swim

Swim by Jack's Mannequin

One of my favorite quotes from the book: "No one can pull anyone back from anywhere. You save yourself or you remain unsaved." This quote really struck me, how people can help you and give you the tools to save yourself but ultimately the only person that can really save you is you. It's up to you to get the help you need and then it's up to you to fight and take that help so that it's beneficial. Nobody can save you without your own consent. It's both empowering and a little scary.

Another of my favorite quotes: "I didn't have much patience with it anymore. Violence only begat violence. Couldn't they see it left all the real work to the women? The comforting and the near impossible task of acceptance." And I think that's a good place to leave it. Take from it what you will.

Esther

On August 25 of this year the world lost Esther Grace Earl. I never knew Esther personally, but I'd heard of her through the wonders of the internet and nerdfighteria. I never met her but I know she was amazing. In 2006 she was diagnosed with metastasized papillary thyroid cancer. She was 12 years old at the time. She fought the cancer for 4 long, hard years but it eventually got the best of her. You can read more about her here. I learned about her sometime earlier this year seeing her in vlogbrothers videos and on fiveawesomegirls. She fascinated me. Sixteen years old, so beautiful and such a fighter, refusing to give up. I didn't know her, but when I learned of her death I cried as if I had lost a close friend. I went to her YouTube channel and spent a day going through her videos. This one especially hit me hard. She's just so open with her feelings, something I've never been able to do. And not just open with her close friends and family but with everyone and anyone willing to listen. She's an inspiration in life and death. All you need to do is search "for Esther" on YouTube and you'll find yourself in a maze of videos dedicated to this 16 year old girl. Many of the videos are by friends and acquaintances but many still are from people who, like myself, never even spoke to her. It's amazing how one little girl can touch the lives of so many people like that. And I wish so badly that I had gotten the chance to know her.

So now I've been listening to this song over and over, because I live my life through music. I think it is absolute gorgeous. It's one of those songs you feel more than hear. Here are some of the best lyrics:

A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I’ll sell them for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’
Funny when your dead how people start listenin’

If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song

The ballad of a dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep ‘em in your pocket
Save them for a time when your really gonna need them, oh

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had, just enough time

-"If I Die Young" by The Band Perry

Another Impasse

So this Friday I ended up Skyping with an old friend of mine, we'll call him A. We've been friends for going on five years now and he's one of my best guy friends. He started telling me about his housemate, who we'll call R (who also happens to be [or I guess was...] one of my old and really good guy friends) and how he's been drinking a lot lately. Apparently R has been getting super wasted and has taken to stripping down and then sprinting around outside. Now first of all I'm not going to condemn drinking. I've done it myself, but I believe in moderation: simple social drinking only. I don't think it's fun or funny to get so drunk you start making a total idiot out of yourself and forget what happened in the morning. I don't understand why you would even want to do that. It might make your problems disappear for a while but in the morning it's all going to come back and with a splitting headache. What's the point? Just man up and deal with your problems.

Anyway, I digress. So A had to leave shortly after telling me this so I ended up texting R lightly chastising his and I receive a response back of "who is this?" Confused I said something along the lines of "What do you mean? You've had my number for years..." and I get "I don't ever remember having this number" back. Now I knew something was wrong so I stopped texting after double checking that it was indeed R I was texting. Then I set off to find him on the old facebook to check in with him there. And as before, with the previously mentioned Impasse, he was nowhere to be found on facebook. I immediately told a mutual friend about this and she confirmed that he hadn't deleted his facebook and how strange it was. She mentioned a couple trivial incidences from early summer that he had come to her about concerning me giving him a hard time about dating her and one time where I apparently ignored him because I was foggy with jetlag. So I texted him back about it saying I wasn't aware he was so upset about any of it. I didn't say so to him but he should have come and talked to ME about this problem and talked it out. For Christ's sake I've broken his heart before and he got over that so we could stay friends but apparently THIS time he can't even fucking talk to me. I ended up getting a really bitchy response back from him saying "i don't give a shit about you. or your fucking jet lag. Get a life." Direct quote. Seriously. What the hell? This isn't even the kid I know. This is not my friend. So I replied saying that. And that if he's going to be that way I guess it's best we not be friends. I haven't heard back since. Am I upset? Yes. But unlike last time I'm not going to obsess about it. He made is decision and I'll respect that. Like I said to him, if he's going to act this way then it's best we not be friends. I'm definitely going to miss him, or who he used to be, but that's growing up. People change, sometimes for the better and sometimes...not. So be it. Live and let live.

Wes Crawford and Some Very Special Drummers in Concert

I just got back from this amazing concert. Wes Crawford, the drum instructor here, brought 3 of his students to perform today. Two of these students, Stu and Jeremy, were born with Williams Syndrome and the third, Kentrell, “faced many prenatal challenges and was born prematurely weighing only 1 lb. 13 oz.” and has just begun learning to read (first Italian while studying Opera and now he’s started reading English.) I’ve done several research papers on music and its affects on the brain especially in autistic children and I’ve considered going into some form of music therapy so when I heard about this concert I was pretty excited to go. I knew it would be unlike any I had gone to before. And in fact I was right.

These young men are definitely special. When I sat down they were warming up and fiddling around on the piano sitting in Merrick but as soon as they saw me they ran up very excitedly and introduced themselves, asking me my name, and telling me how excited they were to be performing. Stu started telling me about his extensive gong collection and Kentrell told me how excited he was to be performing and how he hoped they could come back next year before Wes came over and ushered them out into the lobby probably to give them some last words of encouragement (which they clearly did not need: the were pumped.)

Each student played two pieces. One was a scripted and rehearsed “play-along” with a pre-recorded track of the melody and bass parts and the second was a partially outlined improvised interpretation of other pieces (Pictures at an Exhibition, Seventy-Six Trombones, The Star Spangled Banner.) I wasn’t as much interested in the pieces they were playing (although played skillfully.) I was more focused on watching them playing and feeling the music. Stu and Kentrall were very energetic. In the middle of one of Stu’s pieces he called out “YE-HAW!” and after each of their performances there were so excited and loved playing so much that after their applause they sat back down and started playing again so gleefully Wes had a hard time making them stop so we could move onto the next performer. And when listening to the other performers these two were bouncing around in the seats, keeping time with every fiber of their beings. Jeremy was more intensely focused. He didn’t bob around with the music as much but his facial expressions conveyed how deeply he was feeling it. My favorites were their own improvised interpretations when they were able to completely let loose. Playing with the tracks they had to stay within these guidelines, stay within the lines, but with their interpretations they were able to just let everything fly free and fully express themselves. And yet I was still able to hear the original piece mixed in with their being which was just incredible.

I loved watching them because as a performer and lover of music I know the feeling of having the music INSIDE of you, of feeling like if you were to be cut in that moment instead of blood pouring out music would pour out, of not knowing where you stop and music starts. It’s so intense and you could physically see this as three young men performed. I tend to be a very still performer. I don’t convey much. My parents always tell me how statuesque I look even when my insides are screaming out their own music. But these guys didn’t hold anything back. Jeremy was part of an MTV show called “How’s Your News” where a bus of handicapped people went around the country interviewing celebrities. As Wes said, they were able to ask these celebrities that everyone else WANTS to ask but feels too modest and held back from saying. Most people filter out those questions but Jeremy and the others weren’t afraid to ask these questions and didn’t bother filtering them out. I felt like that’s what they were doing with their performances as well.

Women's Ways of Knowing

This book was actually somewhat interesting. I was rather dreading having to read it but it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t finish though. Anyway I marked a couple spots that I felt rather personal about and whatnot so here is what I found and felt.

-Subjective Knowledge: The Quest for Self: I think I’ve been in this stage for a long time. Or rather I oscillate in and out of it. Sometimes I have a strong hold grasp on who I am and what I want out of life but then seemingly within minutes something happens, somebody throws a wrench in the machinery and what I’ve been holding onto turns into smoke; there’s nothing left in my hands and I have no idea who I am and what I want anymore. Take for instance the other day. I had just about decided that I wanted to transfer to UNL for their larger music program and then maybe going to UW for grad school. I was feeling pretty confident about this. I had things figured out and was feeling good about being able to spend time with my aunt and uncle in Lincoln. Then I went to my orchestra audition and she talked to me about just going to a bigger summer camp to get that experience and see what competition is out there as opposed to the little one I went to this summer (and absolutely loved.) Suddenly I had more options: I could go to a larger camp in the summer for THAT experience and stay at my small liberal arts school (which I do love most days) for THIS experience. Or I could go to my little camp and transfer to a big school or, or, or… And suddenly I feel like I’m back to the beginning and thinking if I transfer I won’t even go to UNL. It’s so much to deal with when I still have everything to deal with here at school.

This stage also made me think of the book/movie Eat, Pray, Love, which I absolutely loved. I’ve talked to a lot of people who hated it and I guess it’s because they aren’t in this stage. They don’t get the need to drop everything, leave everyone behind, make your own way in the world and just live for yourself. They thought it was a terrible plot because this woman was so selfish and only thinking about herself. But really she was only trying to find who she was. She woke up one day and realized she didn’t know who she was anymore and needed to find out. I would love to be able to do that and I guess I sort of have. I left everything and everyone I know and love back home and moved 1500 miles away to go to school. I realized I needed to do it for my own sanity, to make my own way without comfort as a crutch. I’ve never been a very selfish person and I decided I needed to give myself this one thing. Of course here I am now and while I’ve figured some things out others aren’t as clear as I’d like them to be, ya know? Maybe not. I don’t think I’m making sense anymore. Whatever.

-Self-Extraction: Something I have trouble with. I get emotionally wrapped up in things most of the time, especially when it come to books. When reading I am right there standing next to the main character seeing what they see, hearing what they hear, feeling what they feel. I get so sucked in that it becomes hard to distinguish where this character stops and I begin and it’s hard for me to come up from air while reading. I get very disoriented and confused with the read world I suddenly find myself in. But I feel with things I don’t get so emotionally involved in I don’t care about them. It isn’t important to me. Like Daphne said, writing papers about things I don’t care about turns them into crap, mindless writing from whatever side shows me the most reasons to be sided with to make it easier to write for that side.

I have a hard time trusting my so-called gut. I over think absolutely everything and question whenever my gut tries to tell me something.

I don’t know if any of this makes sense. I’m sick and in a bit of a haze but I figured I had to write before I forgot to write and what I was going to write about (which I did anyway.)

The Blind Leading the Blind

Today in class we did this exercise where half the room closed their eyes and the other half led them around and then we switched. Those being led never found who had done the leading. It was very interesting.

Leading was a little stressful to be honest. Suddenly there was this whole other helpless person I’m responsible for and we were only able to hold their hand and their elbow. You’d think that isn’t enough to lead a blind girl around a room filled with 15 or so other couples doing the same thing but somehow it turned out ok.

Being led was a whole different level of weird. I was really tense to begin with and flinched at every sound afraid of being run into or running into someone. But after just a short period of time my partner gained my trust and I was able to relax and just be led around without worrying or even having to think about it. It’s crazy how such simple nuances in pressure can be instantly rightly be interpreted. It was like suddenly we were connected and became one body instead of two. At least that’s what I felt being led around, trusting some girl whose face I didn’t and never will know simply because I had to for survival. Maybe for survival is a little dramatic but you get the point.

I was a little afraid at the beginning of class when we were told there would be a theatrical portion to this class. I am in no way a theatrical person, I have a fear of public speaking, I can’t act, I don’t socialize well with people I don’t know, I’m awkward. But today I reminded myself that we’re all in the same boat, and I think I’m actually going to like this class.

In the Lake of the Woods by Tim O’Brien

I just finished In the Lake of the Woods by Tim O’Brien a couple hours ago. It was a big of a whirlwind read through because I had to borrow the book and so I got it Friday and had to have it finished by tomorrow. So I wasn’t able to do as much processing as I would have liked but that’s ok.

The most prominent quote (in my fine opinion): “Out own children, our fathers, our wives and husbands: Do we truly know them? How much is camouflage? How much is guessed at? How many lies get told, and when, and about what? How often do we say, or think, God, I neverknew her? How often do we lie awake speculating—seeking some hidden truth? Oh, yes, it gnaws at me. I have my own secrets, my own trapdoors. I know something about deceit. Far too much. How it corrodes and corrupts. In her gentle way, I suppose Ruth Rasmussen was trying to tell me something both hard and simple. We find truth inside, or not at all.”

It’s true isn’t it. We lie to each other and to ourselves or we simply hide the truth; cover it up with a blanket, stick it in a closet somewhere, ignore the elephant in the room and hope it goes away. Sometimes it works and we get away with it. Sometimes it work forever and sometimes someone comes along and whips away that blanket, like an old Band-Aid trying to hide a nasty wound, and we have to face up to the monsters and skeletons pushed in to the closet for so long. Nearly forgotten. Sometimes we’re able to overcome all of that, recover, earn back trust and continue living as before. But sometimes, as what appeared to happen to John Wade, we lose ourselves and those we love despite how hard we cling to them in desperation.

So why do we do this to ourselves? Because we’re afraid of what these truths might mean? That it’ll show us to be monsters? “Can we believe that he was not a monster but a man? That he was innocent of everything except his life? Could the truth be so simple? So terrible?” That the world won’t see us as perfect anymore? But nobody is perfect. We should stop living in such fear. We are a nation paralyzed by fear.

"And all that she intends
And all she keeps inside, isn't on the label
She says she's ashamed
And can she take me for awhile?
And can I be a friend, we'll forget the past
But maybe I'm not able
And I break at the bend

We're here and now, but will we ever be again
'Cause I have found
All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade
Away again

She dreams a champagne dream
Strawberry surprise, pink linen and white paper
Lavender and cream
Fields of butterflies, reality escapes her
She says that love is for fools who fall behind
And I'm somewhere in between
I never really know
A killer from a savior
'Til I break at the bend"

-Fuel "Shimmer"

Friendship Out of an Impasse

It’s kind of funny really. We started off hating each other solely for the purpose that I was dating her ex-boyfriend and she was my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend. I had heard stories about her from Boy and decided I didn’t like her purely basing my decision off of that and she saw me walking hand in hand with a boy she still had feelings for and decided she didn’t like me. Typical bitchy teenage girl crap.

Of course Boy got bored with me within a month and ended up heartlessly dumping me right before dating a mutual friend (between myself, him, and his other ex-girlfriend.) So obviously he was well worth hating some random girl over. Any type of relationship (purely friendly or otherwise) with him had been terminated and I had made myself this enemy for no reason whatsoever. So The Other Ex (TOX for short) and I bonded a little over our brutal dumpings.

About half a year later after both TOX and I had attempted patching together a friendship with Boy but to little use. He ended up dating another mutual friend (even though she new I didn't approve thus ending THAT friendship as well) and left us stone cold. We happened to be all at a party for marching band (Boy was drum major and putting on this shindig) and TOX and I both decided we couldn't stand to watch the two of them play tonsil hockey any longer or we were going to kill someone/ourselves so we exited the building to get some fresh air. We happened upon an adorable little bridge with a tree elegantly draping over it and with the full moon above it was more romantic than either of us could have come up with at that point. She mentioned how beautiful it was and how she would love to get married somewhere like it so I got down on one knee and jokingly asked for her hand in marriage. Our other friend who had followed us out agreed to "marry" us right there and so we've been wife and...wife ever since.

Niether of us talk to Boy anymore, but our friendship is going on 4 years now even with my moving 1500 miles away. It's funny really.