#unassociated

[relaxitseazy]

[daemeetsknight]

February 24, 2014 - Monday 8:59 am - 9:28 am Count: 673 words

No one ever said it would be easy. How many times have you heard that phrase? No one ever said it would be easy. The thing is, half the time when I make big decisions I know in my heart what I'm going to do long before I make the words real from my mouth. The thing is, I already know it won't be easy and I don't need anyone to tell me that. My mother taught me difficulty while I grew, and my eyes saw everything, and she would turn to her friends and say "She has an old soul" as though it gave her bragging rights. Look at my daughter, look how I've forced her to grow up at the tender age of eight. Isn't she precious and clever and mature? Look at how broken she is! I learned difficulty at the hands of a teenaged fuck-up, at the hands of embittered middle-aged women, at the hands of a mother who thought feminism meant hating pink and being a bitch all the time.

So I knew; I knew it before I knew the limits of my own body. I knew that life was going to kick my ass and keep kicking once I was on the ground. But I also learned that nothing lasts forever, neither good or bad. Mothers, mental health, sense of security, jobs, marriages, friendships, promises. I learned that if you wanted to keep something, even small things, you had to work at it. Plants and animals and best friends and good grades and the breath in your lungs. It was all work.

When I decided I would care for my brothers, I knew (more or less) what I was getting into. Though, judging by the way my mother took care of things while I was growing, I imagined it would take more effort than I had been exposed to. I suspected I might have to do it by myself. And even with my father's help, it's just enough to get by some days. I'm still not getting everything done, although it feels as though I keep my head above the water. Better than the instability of my own childhood, where some days felt like I was sputtering and choking on the the ocean of problems my mother made for us.

It doesn't have to be hard. Not really.

There are bills to pay (that I thought were not going to be bills at all), and school pictures to buy (that I thought I had paid for, but I suppose that money was to pay the photographer), and blood tests to process (despite the fact that the first ones might have been accurate if someone had the wits to tell me about the blood sugar issue beforehand), and the social workers to call (even though I have called and left messages several times and no one seems interested in returning my calls), and meetings to have with teachers (even though they already know everything there is to know, because I am doing all I can and telling them about it as it happens), and money to make (somehow, with my limited skills, so I can feed my little brothers). 

A fraction, really, of the major things that need doing. A small fraction that is somehow enough to swallow me whole if I let it. A part of me wants to decompose and become something more simple, more directly useful. But a bigger part of me, a part of me I might even label as rebellious, wants to be stronger than the ocean of problems I have to solve. The tides might sweep at my brothers' feet, trying to draw them in and drown them, but today I feel like the moon. I am bright and present, and I can command the tides if I want to. Even when the sun tries to blind them, if they have the good sense to look away then they'll find me quiet in the sky, letting them know that I'm always there. 

[daemeetsknight]

February 11, 2014 - Tuesday 10:05 pm - 11:03 pm Count: 458 words

My words haven’t left me. They’re still safe, in my chest. My words hide under the debris that they could have become, in the aftermath of heartbreak. They won’t leave now, not until they know they won’t be revealed to anyone but me. My words haven’t left me, and they probably never will. I still don’t know what ever possessed me to tell you how I felt. Foolish hope, is what I’d like to believe, but it doesn’t feel that way. It doesn’t feel that way because I’ve had a lingering sense of futility from the very day I realized I loved you. This can’t ever be, and that sort of thing.

So no, hope wasn’t what motivated me to give it a shot. Hope wasn’t what kept me rooted at your side after you told me that you couldn’t return my feelings. Hope wasn’t what kept me from crying in front of you on the day you said you didn’t want to see me anymore; though I almost did anyway, despite my nails digging into my palms.

I can only assume that the strength of my feelings boiled over, pooled around my feet and rose up to drown me. If I didn’t tell you how I felt, I wouldn’t have been okay. If I didn’t stay, time and time again, I would have drowned. “I love you”s were returned with pained smiles, lack of eye contact, and “I know”s. But it was okay, because at least you knew. At least I wasn’t swimming alone. But it was selfish, because in my effort to keep afloat, I was drowning you, too. And you don’t know how to swim in the ocean.

Disjointed metaphors aside, I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind today. Have you seen it? It makes me sad. I’ve been rewatching all the movies that makes me sad lately. Anyway, towards the beginning, the doctor says to Joel that he has to go home and gather all the things that have any association with Clementine into a bag and bring them in. To get rid of their presence and possibility of remembrance, while also giving them a means to map out his memories of her in his mind. I thought about how I’d even do such a thing. What could I do? More than half of my belongings would have to go. I find you in every little thing: notebooks and comics and sci-fi and sushi and coffee and the color green and the shapes I’ve carved into my things. I wouldn’t have anything left; my bed and my cats would be gone, and I’d have to sit in a new apartment with nothing but old flannel and my broken soy sauce dishes.

[english-tibetan-dictionary]

unassociated

rtogs pa ma 'dres pa drug - six unassociated realizations [RY]

spyod pa ma 'dres pa drug - six unassociated activities [RY]

phrin las ma 'dres pa gsum - three unassociated activities [RY]

ma 'dres pa bco brgyad - the 18 unique qualities [of a buddha]. unshared, unmixed; eighteen unassociated qualities (unassociated with any unenlightened qualities); also {sangs rgyas kyi chos ma 'dres pa bco brgyad} [RY]