Elle is for Love

It is a truth universally acknowledged that nothing is always just as it seems or what has been taught to us.

I have begun to sympathize with Satan.  Okay, shocking I know, but I have a point that has nothing to do with the evil part and that overall I absolutely despise the whole realm of the satanic, which cannot really be condensed into a single figure, just like God is not a human being and is also many different figures to me.  Sorry, I will get to my point eventually, but all contexts must be included.

Next semester, I have signed up for Brit + American Lit: Beowulf to 1660.  This means I am going to be reading several astoundingly lengthy but brilliantly crafted epic poems that will inspire my heart and soul to dance with jubilant enthusiasm. Bring on the verbose!  I, knowing myself, must read as many as possible before school starts because the second time through I can analyze, but the first time I am so involved with the plot that nothing else can enter my comprehension.  I have begun with the one epic poem I long to read most, but for some reason continue to try and fail.  So, I have leaped headfirst and will hopefully swim all the way to the shore of John Milton's Paradise Lost.

Paradise Lost is about the fall of man, shown in ways that shed light on the "good", the "evil", and the "human" aspects of the original fall of the angels and the subsequent fall of man.  It begins with the fall of the angels from heaven, after having been defeated by the Almighty (which is how they refer to Him) and sent to hell (Chaos) as punishment.  All of the fallen angels, who were once favorites of God, are now chained to a burning lake and beside themselves with grief and disillusion.  Satan and Beelzebub are the first to gain their bearings and begin to decide how to deal with their defeat and what now must be done about the Almighty.  To cut things short, they rally up the angels and there is an image of the demons (fallen angels) with shields and swords of fire.

This is when I begin to get an aching feeling in my heart and tear up for Satan.  I often feel odd about this, but then I realize that it is befitting of me to have mercy, even to the most unforgivable, because that is what God wants us to do.  I feel so sympathetic and emotional, and--dare I admit it--believe that Satan was dealt a bad hand and is not trying to be evil (using human analogies).  John Milton gives us this:

The fallen angels have pried themselves off the fiery lake, the burning torture removed, but with hardened hearts and filled with despair.  Grasping for purpose they stand in allegiance, refusing to break their bond with one another in this place they call Chaos.  We are given their futures; they are all destined to be a pagan god, most representing money, lust or blood.  They stand and look to their leader.  They have all chosen Satan without anyone conferring.  They freely relinquish all hopes of leading to Satan due to their mutual lack of hubris.  They know exactly how each demon ranks.

This is the point in which I am impressed at the brotherhood and begin to think how misunderstood everything is.  And then comes Satan:

He stands high above his legions, taller and more ethereal than any.  He looks down and out at them and begins to speak.  Alas, he cannot.  Satan bursts into tears, gathers himself and tries to speak.  Again he bursts into tears.  And once more before he is able to give the most heart rendering speech about the acceptance of their fate to oppose God and deliver misery to the world.  He knows his plight and the plights of his brothers and even Milton says that the only thing Satan ever did wrong was oppose God.

I even get a little choked up writing about it.  Can you feel the pain, the heartbreaking agony Satan is experiencing?  The only thing Satan ever did wrong was oppose God.  He then goes on to realize that is is his destiny to act against the will of God always.  Never once do I feel like this is what he meant for himself.  Yes, he raised an army; yes, he is inherently evil.  It is that right there which makes me pity him so: he is INHERENTLY evil.  Greek mythology makes the same point.  Zeus and Hades have an intense sibling rivalry; Hades is desperately trying to outshine Zeus and consistently falling short.  I think we can all identify with that.

I think we should all sympathize with the fall.  Pity Satan a little.  I bet you that is the one thing he will hate most.  And the one thing God will be most proud of us for.

"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil--a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome." (Chapter 11, Pride and Prejudice)

It is a truth universally acknowledged that it is okay to let some things go and accept the end.

I no longer believe that there are only good in the people of the world.  I believe in the bad as well.  I believe that they can cut you like a knife and rip your heart out and stamp on it, and feel good about it all the while.  I accept that I am not alone, but I am also not the only kind of person in the world. There are those who are unlike me and do not think the best of others or treat them as they would like to be treated.

This sucks, but such is life.

I also believe that I am now a stronger person for realizing this, with the help of many.

On a different note...

I will never have to compete against rhinestone crotches ever again.  I accept this, I embrace this, I love this, and I believe that my life will be the happier for it.  I can be the concert dancer, the artist, the mover that I want to be and will not have to the enter the world where I watch myself and my family feel bad about who they are and stand on the brink of selling out to win or standing strong in our convictions.  I accept that my studio taught me everything they had to offer and I accept that I am now done and will move on completely, unless, of course, they are willing to give me a job and let me impart all of the knowledge I have on the younger part of my family.  I accept that I will miss them, but I will try and see them as often as possible.

I accept that I am growing up.  And I accept that I am not particularly enjoying it.

"Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene, the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it" -Jane Austen

It is a truth universally acknowledged that what you feel is not under your control.

I need love.  I'm easily perturbed, easily scorned, easily frazzled.  And by needing love, I mean, that I need constant help to feel good about myself and feel like a valid person.  These feelings pop up quickly and without any rational cause usually.  I just know, that I cannot help what I feel.

There is a huge difference between feeling something and acting on that something.  Being irrational when your emotions get the best of you always comes back to make you feel worse, to make you feel like a slave to these feelings you cannot help.

This is a short post, but I do not feel like extrapolating much and I think it adds to not giving into your feelings.

This was more of a validation of my feelings than advice or musings for everyone.  But I think sometimes we all need a little reminder that it is okay to feel upset, it is okay not to have a reason, and it is okay to just feel badly and cry a little.

It's okay.

"Well, my comfort is, I am sure Jane will die of a broken heart, and then he will be sorry for what he has done."
Mrs. Bennet

It is a truth universally acknowledged that sometimes you just need something little.

Sometimes you just want a text that says I love you.  Sometimes you just want a note that says today is going to be better.  Sometimes you just want the little things to drown the big things.

I love to brood.  In fact, if you asked most of those who know me very well, they will tell you that I like any actor who has a good brooding scene (i. e. Paul Dano in Little Miss Sunshine).  I love to hold it all in and I have a really hard time letting it go.  Sometimes, I just need someone to say something funny or lovely or hopeful.  I just need a little pick me up.  As Blink 182 says, "She leaves me roses by the stairs, surprises let me know she cares".

I have been trying extra hard to bring that light into others lives the past weeks, because, in all honesty, it makes me feel good too.  Every little hopeful thing you say, makes one come back to you.  That is not my intention, but it always works out that way.

God gives us so many precious, little gifts through life and we take them all for granted and forget to thank him for the simple, seemingly insignificant, parts of life.  Then one bad thing happens and we all fall to pieces.  My family has been through a lot lately, but in between the bad is a mountain of wonderful blessings.  And as my incredibly intelligent other half said, "God has a plan for us all, and sometimes these things need to happen".  It's made me put a little more effort into my relationships, because, in the end, that's all we have.

So tell someone you love them.  Tell them you care.  Tell them a funny story.

Good morning.
The sky is blue.
I love you.
I locked myself in the bathroom and had to karate kick the door open after crawling underneath. (true story sadly)
Goodnight.

"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples." Chapter 18

It is a truth universally acknowledged that you are your own worst critic.

Humility is an outstanding quality, providing a sense of modesty and humbleness.  However, there is a limit.  There is a point when modesty turns to self-deprecation and humbleness into denial.  There is a point where it becomes abusive, hurtful.

Loss of pride always sounds like a nice thing, a point where you are beyond conceit and self-righteousness.  But when you have lost all pride in your abilities and your character it feels like someone has hooked your heart with a fishing line and it is ripping and pulling as it takes it away from you and you cannot grasp at it because your hands are busy tearing yourself down and your tears are not that of a phoenix and so they cannot repair you.  It feels like you are standing in quicksand and the love of your life is holding a branch out to you and you cannot muster any strength to reach for it even though your arms are muscled and toned and you are staring into their pools of hazel and drowning in sorrow because you have put them through this.

The frustration of feeling this way is overwhelming and breeds hot anger and hot angry tears that could melt the poles.  Then it becomes too much and it feels like your body is trying to shake your soul out and purge itself of this venom snaking through the veins that are pulsing.  And so you pray.  You remind yourself vehemently to be still, and then you are screaming at yourself to be still.  Be still, Just be still, Please, God, make me still. And the lack of peace grows and fills up the whole space and you no longer fit inside that space and the world crashes down on your temple and you try to hold your prayers inside your fingers.  And you look up because you hear something...

"Are you okay?" Yeah, I'm fine.  I just completely zoned out.  Is it cold in here?


"Have you no consideration for my poor nerves?" -Mrs. Bennett

It is a truth universally acknowledged that having a bad day will mean all the world will conspire against you to make it worse.

So, after being completely worn out at dance, you drive home planning on getting a smoothie packed with protein to supplement the fact that you have eaten nothing of substance in three days and now have a cold from your boyfriend, which, in the end, you couldn’t care less that he is the one that gave it to you. Anyways, you’re driving and you pull into Xoom because that is the true healthy smoothie shop, and not Jamba Juice. As you turn into Xoom you look down at the car radio and see the time, which is 5:18 and you think, Wait…doesn’t Xoom close at 5 because it is a ridiculous and inconvenient time for them to close? But you turn in anyways with a tiny bit of hope in your heart because you are starving and your throat is sore and it is going to taste so amazing. And…the “Open” sign is clearly posted in the store window. Starbursts of excitement explode in your head and then, the Xoom guy—who has to look earthy and edgy—is sweeping and you see the chairs on top of the counter near the magazines and you know that he just hasn’t flipped the sign but that he probably already washed all of the supplies. And so you pause, with the lights of your car going straight into the windows of the shop, which makes the Xoom guy look up at you and you swear, absolutely swear, that earthy-edgy Xoom guy gave you a dirty look. A look that meant, “As soon as you park that car, I’m going to flip the sign. I will. I will flip the sign” and that look made your soul crawl and you just drove through the parking lot and back onto Speedway. Thank you, Xoom guy, for the beginning of a downward spiral.

So, without a smoothie, you drive to your dorm in the pouring rain (of course) and think about how much your throat hurts and how you have a bunch of homework and there is no way in the world you are walking the lengthy distance between your parking garage and dorm room. Praying for an open spot in front of your dorm, of course there isn’t one, so you settle for a spot in front of the next dorm, but you know there is no way that you will be able to get up prior to 6 a.m. and move your car to its rightful place in the garage. But you park there anyways, because it’s pouring and you are wearing a t-shirt and jazz pants, and you have a cold. So, you trudge through the puddles and the rain because Arizona, land of the monsoons, cannot think ahead enough to put in proper drainage routes for rainwater. But, it’s okay; because you can do all of the homework you want and feel so productive that all the other worries will go away.

So, walking into your dorm, you see that the girl at the desk is not one that knows you and so she does not acknowledge your presence or look up, but whatever because you are going to be productive! Upon opening your door, you realize that all of the lights are turned off and your roommate is not sitting at her computer, and the blanket on the top bunk looks lumpy, and not pushed-aside lumpy, but person-inside lumpy. And you recall that she never came home after a party last night, which means she is most likely taking a nap, and she then pops her head up and says that she just laid down and to make all the noise you want. You love that she doesn’t care and do not blame her for wanting a nap, because you take so many of those, so you try to be as quiet as possible anyways. Everyone deserves some quality naptime. Well, that means homework is probably out of reach at the moment, so much for productivity. And so, the next best thing: FACEBOOK!

So, signing into facebook, you see that you have a total of 3 notifications. There is nothing like a lack of response or affection on a social networking page. No one wants to open their facebook and see only 3 notifications, because deep down inside you wish that all of your friends had something to say to you without you having said anything to them because everyone wants a little attention. Then you see that 2 of the notifications are just “likes” on your status, and the other notification is a comment from someone you don’t know on a friend’s status. Now you feel worse, so you decide to go take a shower. You gather all of your stuff as quietly as you can, which means dropping every item at least twice with a loud thud, and go to the shower. Showering is pretty foolproof, although you have almost drowned once or twice for various sleep-related reasons (probably not you, but more me). Until, the lights, which run on a timer, turn off halfway through. And you continue to shower, in the dark, and the dark is depressing.

So, walking back into your dorm room, you drop everything at least twice, knock over various dishes and realize that instead of having a “planet” on your face, there is pretty much an entire universe thriving there. Thank you, God, for oily teenage faces. The showering/lotioning process is complete; sweats and t-shirt go on, along with less-warm jacket because more-warm jacket is too cute to be seen in since your current state is universal, in a bad way. A quick trip back to the computer to see if Canyon Café is open for some apple cider, of course it is not, Starbucks in the Bookstore, yes. You know that you will never move your car if you don’t move it now so you make the quick trip to the union to get apple cider first. The Starbucks is dark and vacant, the farthest thing from open, so you settle for U-Mart hot chocolate.

So, opening the door to the U-Mart, you see that your universal face is coupled with half-wet hair, which makes it look greasy, and you are wearing black sweatpants, a black t-shirt, a black zip-up and black chucks. You think to yourself, Could I BE anymore angsty? Oh, Chandler Bing, how I love thee, and continue into the store. You fill up the cup with hot chocolate to the brim, immediately realize there is no way you are moving that to the counter without spilling it, so you take a big gulp. You are stupid. The boiling-lava-hot hot chocolate, as Jim Gaffigan would say, scalds your mouth and makes your eyes water a ridiculous amount, so now you are standing at the cash register in all black attire, with greasy hair, planet-covered face and tear-filled eyes. Besides, you already have a cold that makes you slightly pale with a reddish nose. He looks at you pityingly, and now you really do want to cry, but you just walk to the back counter, put a lid on your hot chocolate and leave.

So, walking back to your car, you feel horribly embarrassed and drive your car back to the parking garage and take the wrong entrance, which puts you farther away than you normally park. The second you get out of your car the rain, which had stopped while you were in the car, begins again. And you didn’t wear your more-warm jacket, because you thought it would look funny. News flash, you look funny anyways because of your all-black attire, universal face and greasy (not really, just wet and getting wetter) hair. The hot chocolate, which was supposed to be caramel apple cider from the false-advertising Starbucks, doesn’t feel good in your scalded mouth. You walk all the way back to your dorm in the rain, in the dark, which means every single person walking near you will be a slightly scary looking man, and you will remember that your pepper spray is on your desk and your best friend/bodyguard is at work, along with your boyfriend/bodyguard. You will panic without meaning to, finally reach your dorm, type in the code so fast you push too many buttons but it opens anyways (very secure), and the girl at the desk still doesn’t look up. At this point, you are feeling so hysterical and awful that you would not put it past you if you screamed “Acknowledge my existence, please!!!! I don’t even care what you’re name is!!!! Just say hi to me!!!” But you calmly turn to the left and walk down the hall.

So, walking back into your dorm room, your roommate is still asleep. The quality naptime has now stretched over 2 hours, and you are very happy for her to be able to sleep because she had a long night. But, all you want is a little company and she is sleeping. And then she disappears. So you write a blog, and you realize that it seems funny after you write it all down, unless you just spent the last 4 hours living it.

And so I say, “Laugh as much as you choose, but you will not laugh me out of my opinion.” (Jane Bennett, Ch. 17)