You know how when crazy coincidences happen and people attribute it to 'small world?' I disagree with that. It's a huge world, so huge I sometimes fail to grasp, and--population wise--constantly growing.
We're the small ones. There's this feeling I get from staring out at the ocean that I can best describe as a glorious insignificance. It's like this beautiful realization that in the bigger picture, my life is pretty tiny. In my lifetime, I'll try not to consume more than I need and I'll hopefully help people ad do some good ad maybe it'll even out. Maybe all my positive contributes will cancel out what I take away. But looking at the human race broadly, my impact will be pretty small.
Some people may fall into a depression of sorts upon realizing this, feel lost in a sea of purposelessness. Like in a book called Nothing, where this group of seventh graders are faced with the idea that nothing matters and are not able to live with it. They go to incredible lengths to prove to themselves and each other that something in life has meaning.
What people fail to appreciate, in commenting that it's a small world, is how naturally interconnected we are I feel like one of the biggest failings of the human race is to put things in perspective. Like, if we just saw that throwing your toxic garbage in a landfill that leeches into the groundwater that goes to the rivers where the fish we eat swim, would we be this thoughtless?
So, to me, it's not that strange when it turns out that my dad and my friend's dad went to the same highschool in a small town on the other side of the country and other weird connections reveal themselves.
It's not a small world; sometimes it just feels like it.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
unapologetically consistent
I decided I was feeling bloggy today so I went to my url to see when I had last posted and it was October 22--the time before that, September 22. Weird, isn't it?
My last blog was about how I was doing nanowrimo. It seems somewhat fitting that this one should inform that I am not going to win nano. I'm glad I did it because I wrote 25,000 words that I wouldn't have otherwise but I decided that it would not suit me to write the other 25,000 words in the last 10 days. I'm not interested in the stress and, to be honest, it isn't fun anymore.
I like winning but it isn't worth it. Not that I'm going to stop writing; I'm not. I'm just not writing 2,500 words a day, that's all.
On another note, my head is swirling with a lot of half-formed thoughts. Someone's recently moon-walked into my life who is, in some indirect and not so indirect ways, shaking things up.
Gilmore Girls is calling. I will continue to be unapologetic for my amateur, yet consistent, blogging.
My last blog was about how I was doing nanowrimo. It seems somewhat fitting that this one should inform that I am not going to win nano. I'm glad I did it because I wrote 25,000 words that I wouldn't have otherwise but I decided that it would not suit me to write the other 25,000 words in the last 10 days. I'm not interested in the stress and, to be honest, it isn't fun anymore.
I like winning but it isn't worth it. Not that I'm going to stop writing; I'm not. I'm just not writing 2,500 words a day, that's all.
On another note, my head is swirling with a lot of half-formed thoughts. Someone's recently moon-walked into my life who is, in some indirect and not so indirect ways, shaking things up.
Gilmore Girls is calling. I will continue to be unapologetic for my amateur, yet consistent, blogging.
Friday, November 11, 2011
so this is going well...
I missed the second day of BEDA.
I was going to write it when I got home from being psychoanalyzed and having my blood taken for me for the purpose of pursuing greater truths but, like, it was 10 o'clock and I forgot.
This is after my mom and I were put in a room together with a video camera and told to talk about feels. Did I mention the blood pressure machines we had on? SCIENCE.
I was going to write it when I got home from being psychoanalyzed and having my blood taken for me for the purpose of pursuing greater truths but, like, it was 10 o'clock and I forgot.
This is after my mom and I were put in a room together with a video camera and told to talk about feels. Did I mention the blood pressure machines we had on? SCIENCE.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
I'm now going to talk about signed things, of which I have no shortage.
When John announced that he would be signing the entire first printing of The Fault in Our Stars, I probably had a moment of excitement. There's a faint hope that I'll get a special one, a hanklerfish, a note, a purple Sharpie one, etc. But for the most part, it doesn't mean that much to me.
The thing that I've come to learn about signed things is that they're about as special as the story behind them. Witness the Cassie Clare and Holly Black books above. My friends and I waited in line, a line winding between bookshelves throughout half of Chapters, so that we could go up and get those signed. We got to chat with the authors while they did it. My dad got the parental unit award of the night for staying in the mall for at least five hours during the q&a and signing. Those lines on those books are almost symbolic of that night.
Then there's the Twilight book. Picture, if you will, my naive Twilight loving, 13-year-old self, so excited to be sitting in the very last row of Benaroya Hall in Seattle that I am bouncing in my seat. Then imagine later on, standing in a complex line in the lobby, clutching this piece of shit book and dancing with my sisters to Mr. Brightside by The Killers. That night was so much fun, I can't even describe. And when I look at that scribbled SM, it reminds me of how silly and happy I was.
Now, there's two John Green signatures on here. I have never met John Green. I've met Hank Green and I probably got him to sign something but I'm sure where, or even what, it is (oh, now that I think about it, it's the poster from his last album). The first signature was given to me by my sister. When John was in the UK last year, doing a show with The Sons of Admirals in London, I told her she had to go. And she did. When she came home for Christmas that year, she gave it to me and though I was blasé when she first mentioned it, when I saw my name in John's handwriting I kind of freaked out. So when I glance towards where it hangs in my room, I don't just think about the fact that John Green once told me not to forget to be awesome, I think about the fact that my lovely sister went to this random concert she knew nothing about and then probably stood in line so that I could have this piece of paper. And I think that's pretty cool.
The second J Scribble is a copy of Will Grayson, Will Grayson that my mom brought home from work one day. She called me when she saw it and asked if I wanted it and I said, "Sure." When she handed it to me, I opened it, closed it and put it on my shelf. And maybe my abundance of opportunity to get things signed has made me a signature snob but this book just doesn't mean any more than the unsigned copy it sits next to on my shelf. It's kind of cool that one time John Green and David Levithan held this book and maybe some of their skin cells flaked off on it but aside from that, it's just faded Sharpie scribbles on a piece of paper.
This lengthy case study has been an indulgence of mine to show you that having a signature that is 1 in 150,000 is not that important to me. I would buy the book the day it comes out, anyway. It sounds freaking amazing. I would rather John be healthy and carpal tunnel-less than have another J Scribble in my room.
But, I don't know, I appreciate the effort John is giving to Nerdfighteria and I'm grateful for all the energy the Green brothers but in to this community.
When John announced that he would be signing the entire first printing of The Fault in Our Stars, I probably had a moment of excitement. There's a faint hope that I'll get a special one, a hanklerfish, a note, a purple Sharpie one, etc. But for the most part, it doesn't mean that much to me.
The thing that I've come to learn about signed things is that they're about as special as the story behind them. Witness the Cassie Clare and Holly Black books above. My friends and I waited in line, a line winding between bookshelves throughout half of Chapters, so that we could go up and get those signed. We got to chat with the authors while they did it. My dad got the parental unit award of the night for staying in the mall for at least five hours during the q&a and signing. Those lines on those books are almost symbolic of that night.
Then there's the Twilight book. Picture, if you will, my naive Twilight loving, 13-year-old self, so excited to be sitting in the very last row of Benaroya Hall in Seattle that I am bouncing in my seat. Then imagine later on, standing in a complex line in the lobby, clutching this piece of shit book and dancing with my sisters to Mr. Brightside by The Killers. That night was so much fun, I can't even describe. And when I look at that scribbled SM, it reminds me of how silly and happy I was.
Now, there's two John Green signatures on here. I have never met John Green. I've met Hank Green and I probably got him to sign something but I'm sure where, or even what, it is (oh, now that I think about it, it's the poster from his last album). The first signature was given to me by my sister. When John was in the UK last year, doing a show with The Sons of Admirals in London, I told her she had to go. And she did. When she came home for Christmas that year, she gave it to me and though I was blasé when she first mentioned it, when I saw my name in John's handwriting I kind of freaked out. So when I glance towards where it hangs in my room, I don't just think about the fact that John Green once told me not to forget to be awesome, I think about the fact that my lovely sister went to this random concert she knew nothing about and then probably stood in line so that I could have this piece of paper. And I think that's pretty cool.
The second J Scribble is a copy of Will Grayson, Will Grayson that my mom brought home from work one day. She called me when she saw it and asked if I wanted it and I said, "Sure." When she handed it to me, I opened it, closed it and put it on my shelf. And maybe my abundance of opportunity to get things signed has made me a signature snob but this book just doesn't mean any more than the unsigned copy it sits next to on my shelf. It's kind of cool that one time John Green and David Levithan held this book and maybe some of their skin cells flaked off on it but aside from that, it's just faded Sharpie scribbles on a piece of paper.
This lengthy case study has been an indulgence of mine to show you that having a signature that is 1 in 150,000 is not that important to me. I would buy the book the day it comes out, anyway. It sounds freaking amazing. I would rather John be healthy and carpal tunnel-less than have another J Scribble in my room.
But, I don't know, I appreciate the effort John is giving to Nerdfighteria and I'm grateful for all the energy the Green brothers but in to this community.
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