Rain Drops on My Head

I'm Patricia, and here you'll find things on life, the world, people, relationships, and why the rain falls down. Most of it will be stories or babbling brooks or flotsam and junk I find floating around. Feel free to comment and critique.

[loki-cat2]

[onlypooh]

[aseaofquotes]

Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

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Would it be bad to say that this defines quote defines me? Or, rather, that it redefined how I see myself?

No matter what I do, I am always here. Even when I strive to escape old habits, or see the world differently, I, at my core, am always me. What's the point of trying to define myself, then? Perhaps I should go with the flow, but... that brings unhappiness to the people I know lead that kind of life.

[raindropsonmyhead-blog]

I skip when I cross the street. Might as well.

[waitaminutemisterpostman]

[todaysdocument]

Happy Birthday Teddy!

Theodore Roosevelt, NYPD Commissioner, Governor of New York, Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Rough Rider, Nobel Laureate, inspiration for the “Teddy Bear” and the twenty-sixth President of the United States, was born in New York City on October 27, 1858.

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This is my man. Right here.

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Lately, we have both been busy with our university work. We are lucky if we get to talk once a week, where before we could talk almost every day. But, still, I get that boundless joy when I read the letters he still sends me. Even with their brevity, the fact that they still come says more than he can ever convey in ink.

[interwar]

A marine moves on to catch up with his unit after he has covered a dead comrade with a poncho cover and marked his position with his bayoneted rifle. Battle of Saipan, 1944.

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It's been a while

I'll try and maintain this blog again. Stay tuned - I have lots to say now that I'm in college.

[raindropsonmyhead-blog]

Realization

It is you. It is you that somehow framed my life, but you were not some cheap frame that goes on sale in some furniture store that holds a portrait of some girl or some place but the frame that has no color or form, but something like the swaying shadows of the trees. Perhaps you were never aware of me until I reached you on your borders - I had a vague feeling that I needed you, somehow, but oh! I didn't know, then. And you held me, even as I changed dimensions and textures. I am young, so I developed as I learned - a bird house warming in the sun, a breathless laugh, a stumbling shadow at a bonfire. I was never satisfied with who I was. But I grew. And I reached you anyway. I reached you, felt your edges and weak spots, and as I grew I found just how much I fit into your shape. You held me together, and supported me so I could display who I am to the world, without fear of falling down.

And you? Some would say that some frame like you were only that. And no one could see you. But once you disappear, ah... There I float down down down, nowhere to be found...

[raindropsonmyhead-blog]

"It’s almost impossible to imagine a world without words. But in this hour of Radiolab, we try to do just that.

We meet a woman who taught a 27-year-old man the first words of his life, hear a firsthand account of what it feels like to have the language center of your brain wiped out by a stroke, and retrace the birth of a brand new language 30 years ago."

[raindropsonmyhead-blog]

Best part about Experience SOKA

There were lots of things that most people would expect me to say. "Oh, the campus was the best!", "The food was really good", or "To sit in classes." Or even "The people were special here." And all these things are true for me. I have no hesitation in telling people these things, since they come so easily to the tongue. But I find myself editing out the smaller details. They aren't noteworthy by themselves, but are only an experience. A feeling. And explaining these things to people takes time. Or they would not truly understand, or appreciate what it is that made it special to me. Even now, it's difficult. 

By nature, I like to write poetry to express these small moments. But I myself don't understand why some moments meant anything to me - how can I share something so vague? So I'll just tell you, in the best way I can. On the 8th, I woke up at around 6am with the specific intention of watching the sunrise. It was too cold for me, however, and I went back to bed to wake up about an hour later. I got outside - the grass was dewy, the sun was shining on the wet stone. There was a cold breeze coming in, but I didn't really notice it - it was just there. Fresh. I was tired before, but out there, I felt wide awake, and open. I watched the flowers, waiting for the first bee to arrive. I watched the mountains change colours - they change as the day passes - and listened to the bird song pierce the stillness. No one else was awake, you know - it was too early for most people. Most of the window shades were closed, so I guess people were still sleeping, or too tired to leave their rooms like I was earlier. I walked by the lotus ponds. The water was shining in the light of the sun, and so was the surrounding stone. Don't you like the look of things after a night storm passes through? I also like how the flowers don't open up until much later in the day. Like the day hasn't really started yet, and that there's that time between the opening and closing of flowers that feels removed from yourself, and the dictation of the day's schedule or whatever it is that preoccupies people. I felt freedom. I feel this way when I walk around my neighborhood around midnight, when the moon's out and the lights from the nearby houses are out. Or when the hallways at my school are empty while classes are going on. 

That morning, when I sat by the lotus ponds to watch the flowers, I felt emptied out of ego. Why do I worry? Why do I focus on myself, and pass things such as this off as "nothing"? But everything that morning was alive. Just there, doing its own thing. The sleeping people were a part of that moment too - they were in some other place, removed from themselves. Kinda in a primal state. Everything was like that. And that, I would say, is the best part about my time at SUA. Because it has been a while since I felt so happy to be alive.

[raindropsonmyhead-blog]

Language

Words, words, words. Our experience is limited by language, but in some ways is extended, too. Through language, we can, in a broad sense, communicate with one another about concrete and abstract ideas. This is accomplished through shared symbols. But these symbols can be misleading, and ultimately limit us.

For example, if I were to say 'dog', the image of a dog may appear in your head. But that's what I assume - some people may conjure up a different breed of dog than what I am thinking of, or may think of something entirely different that may or may not relate to the concrete presence of a dog. (Not the best example to use, but it illustrates the issue of shared concepts nicely).

Outside of that example, we communicate to one another through these symbols and do fairly well. Even with different languages, if those languages are translated into another, they share most symbols and are ultimately understandable. There are many ways to say: "I love you", "sky", and "earth", just to name a few.

The thing is, we do share these symbols, but they only relate to what we have experienced. If we were to try and name an abstract unknown presence, then we struggle to describe it. If something were beyond our understanding, how could we relate? You can see such problems in religious texts. The unknown is limited to how we can describe It, and we are then forced to downgrade the idea into a structure that is more relatable outside the self (and therefore to other people). This creates the new concept of whatever It is, and can from there be corrupted into forms different from itself - but it still has the same name. Or the symbol becomes the concrete - a good example is money.

This is a rather large topic for me to describe adequately, so there probably are inconsistencies and errors in my logic, but bear with me here. I'm not that great at expressing myself.

[raindropsonmyhead-blog]

Everyone should read out-loud to themselves sometime. A children's book, preferably. I read The Brothers Lionheart before I go to bed sometimes, when I'm stressed. A dear friend of mine gave that book to me, you see. I feel safe when I hear myself read it (he's far away.)

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So when I saw those houses, and saw their dark windows, I suddenly felt lonely. Are there people? What do they want? But it was evening, and we were only driving by.

[white-coat-deactivated20111012-]

[raindropsonmyhead-blog]

You see, he helps me smile. Even when I should not be, and people probably wonder why I have such a stupid face sometimes when I should be this or that. I even smile when he is not here. But they do not know that I am everything, and that I really am this or that but more of. He never takes away.