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