valchemy @stillmetaphysical - Tumblr Blog

This past year I became a father and I cannot put in words how INCREDIBLE it is. My heart just swells when my daughter looks at me and smiles. I admit that I've been so worried about being emotionally cold. I've never felt this type of love and it is a shining through me. She's my little Bug.

#Spotify

Corner Pieces

Past me has done silly things to myself in the present. I swear it's unintentional but I have a habit of stuffing notes away into my jacket pockets or an old bag or knife roll.

I've found things like old receipts or a very old pack of cigarettes. The cigarettes make me miss my delinquency and a so-sure-of-myself everlasting streak of rebellion.

I find aching things too-- like a good bye letter I think opened and closed so much that the creases were falling apart. It was hidden away in a jacket that I subconsciously swore I would never wear again. I found the jacket in a closet that has more of my parents' clothes than mine now, in a house that feels haunted by memories of my childhood.

I think memories can feel like ghosts. And writing about memories as I get older feels like describing something I can only see from the corner of my eye. Look too close and I'm fixating, too far and it slips away like a dream.

Every now and then, I can coax one into form. I'm luckier if I'm able to write about it. From the unlit corners of my mind, I can find some sweet memories. (God, I wish I had my dad's skill as a chronicler).

Those memories are delightful corners piece pastries with browned edges that are a right bittersweet.

It's almost 2AM and it's snowing outside.

I have yet to see it but my sister says there's a video of my parents and I seeing snow for the first time back in '93. I've seen some photos but never a video.

My mom moved to Rock Hill before my dad and I did. Our first year together in a small apartment, all three of us shared something new at the same time.

30 some years later, I'm here thinking about them as I watch snow fall outside my house.

It's 2AM, I surely can't just call them. Tomorrow though-- there's time.

I'm embarrassed to say that I spent some of my youth and young adulthood creating distance between us. I felt alone navigating my childhood and by the time I was in high school, it's terrible to say that I even felt like I was held back. Held back by the sheer cultural differences that I couldn't properly communicate. I didn't even know what I needed. I wanted acceptance from my peers and I wanted acceptance from the world at large.

Well into adulthood today, it hurts me to think that I've left them behind.

I fear every passing day furthering the divide until I'm without them.

How can I even begin to start to address what feels like lost time?

That's just rhetorical. I know-- I know. It's nice to write about this.

My night terrors as a child had me waking up sobbing out of fear. If I can see all the pets I've loved I think I might be okay.

typewriter-worries

where's that picture that ruined my life

typewriter-worries

found it

tastefullyoffensive

(via vampiregaI)

goodreadss

The saddest thing that can happen to a person is to find out their memories are lies.

Juan Gabriel Vásquez (via goodreadss)

shinjurou

cheruib

on all levels except physical i am sitting on top of the moon with my legs swinging back and forth

elcrivain

What is so great about Wuthering Heights? I find it rather annoying.

The Wuthering Heights, like many other classics, wasn’t very popular when it initially came out. But it was appreciated much later as it explored the Gothic romance genre unlike any other novel of that time period.

Heathcliff and Catherine are two of the most flawed characters and are painfully human. While reading the novel, you invariably end up rooting for them cause they belong to each other in their own weird, twisted and dark ways that no one else was privy to. They were essentially one mind and soul in two bodies. But they both let their egos and social norms get the worst out of them and set their lives on a destructive path resulting in so many people of different generations being unhappy.

Any feminist would identify with Catherine’s character initially. She was a wild child who just wanted to break social norms, live her life fully and care about nothing but her happiness. But as she matures, she lets social norms weigh in her decisions and gives into it. She ultimately chooses Edgar for his influential standing in society though her heart belonged to someone else. Could Heathcliff have been the better person by forgiving her for choosing materialistic possessions and social standing over him and moved on? Yes, but that wouldn’t be a dark, broody and interesting novel. It becomes sappy. So he marries Edgar’s sister out of spite. And they both torture themselves for the rest of their lives regretting their decisions and agonizing over the ‘what-ifs’.

I am a sucker for tragic love stories and this novel is the epitome of dark, unrequited love. I found the novel so raw in its emotions that you can feel the lovers’ anguish and torture.

“Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you–haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe–I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always–take any form–drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

If that doesn’t give you the chills, I don’t know what else will. The whole prose just makes you pause for a minute or two to absorb the full extent of sadness until you move on to the next line.

At BBQ

Friend: Bring a 6 pack of whatever

Me: