Ode to Gwen

Ok kids, blame Gwen for this one…

I have always been a prolific writer – even when I was too young to really have much to say. I remember when I first started keeping journals, I was so young that all I could think to write was something like “dear diary, today I ate grilled cheese for lunch. Then Patty and I fought because she was being a jerk. I’m going to sleep now. Good night.” I have thinking bouncing around in my head a great deal of the time, many of which I am concerned about what people would think of me if they knew the things I think about sometimes.

I have the feeling, and I will warn you, dear reader, up front, that this is going to be a windy, scattered posting herein, and in my best of intentions I will expand more on any points of interest along the way at a later date – but right now I feel like my head is overstuffed full and I need to release the pressure valve.

When I was younger, say, high school into early 20’s-ish, I would think to myself how sad it was when I looked at the people around me who couldn’t stand to be alone with their own thoughts for more than five minutes. Who don’t have or don’t want to develop the ability to sit quietly, read a book, listen to music, but mostly live inside their own head. To have a deep, serious, introspective conversation with themselves. Some might call it a form of meditation, or self-analysis? Anyway, I’m referring to the person who neglects spending time with their significant other – real quality time to focus on each other and developing the bond between the two of you. What I think of as *true* intimacy. Those who constantly have to have a whole crowd of people around, or a tv on “for background”.

College teaches you a few things. And I’m not talking about memorizing dates of civil wars or names of capitals. It teaches you that there is a whole lot of information out there in the world. It’s like trying to think about infinity itself (which I used to try to do as a mental exercise when I was younger, and it usually either gave me a headache or made me feel dizzy) So much like doctors going through medical school, the idea is that you as a conscious being, figure out what information from that incomprehensible overload are things that interest you, that you feel connected to, or whatever the case may be. And you focus. Because no one can know everything. It’s really not possible. For the fact that we use such a miniscule amount of the estimated total processing power of our brains, even if some superhuman genius (like a thousand times smarter than Steven Hawkins) lit up their whole switchboard with brain power, could still not know everything there possibly is to know in the world without their head exploding, or dying of old age, because it would take so long to learn it all.

That was a far digression (you were warned), so I’m going to start that paragraph over again… back to college, and the true value behind it.

Nah, side note on some thoughts on the “college experience” instead…

What I learned in college – by – Sharon Berry

1) my social security number. By heart. To this day.

2) *how to think* as in, providing a thought structure in my head so that things were less of a jumble. Analytical thinking, I guess?

3) that I have a deep interest in psychology, sociology, “women’s studies”, but really more of human interactions overall…

Leading me, for the moment, back to Gwen, who, in the short span of time since we have actively rekindled a long forgotten connection, has done wonders for my mental health and good spirits…

In recent conversations with Gwen, we have touched upon a couple of points that really stir my brain soup.

I realized today (which I already knew, but had *mostly* been successful in banishing to a corner and ignoring it to make it go away, how much I have turned on the “white noise” in my head. I come home from work and turn on the tv and sit on the computer. And it’s not like I’m doing something productive in any way shape or form. Just aimlessly sucked into the internet. Not even writing blogs that make people laugh, weep, and think a little bit more consciously about life and what the true value of it is.

So here I sit, tv off, dogs resting, complete quiet… trying to pull my head together. And do some spring cleaning of the mind and soul, I suppose.

- life and why we are here. As in I find my life view inspiration from such sources as (in no particular order) C.S. Lewis’s The ScrewTape Letters, Tori Amos lyrics, Harold & Maude, Dogma, Chasing Amy, Pay it Forward (yes, shut up.) Pump Up the Volume (laugh if you like at the dated-ness of the film, it is still a good core message – don’t accept mediocrity and someone else’s cookie cutter blue print of what they think *your* life should be… )

- I am afraid of people on the internet. The fact that there are viruses, spamware, spyware, malware, worms, and people out there that have nothing better to do with their time than come up with ways to fuck up my computer and try to steal my money, really bothers me.

- This probably in part circles back to my worldview thing, as in, you should be out there living your life to make the world a better place, or at least a better place for someone – and I mean someone other than yourself…. Much like the “teach a man to fish….” Theory, if I live my life to the purpose of solely my own gain and concerns, and if everyone does the same, then that is like handing someone a fish. If, however, I live my life putting good energy out there for other people, doing what I can to (in whatever measure) make other people happy, which to me is the best way to make the world a better place, and again, everyone else does the same, then it is like teaching us, as a collective, to fish. At least in my head that’s how it works.

So today Gwen basically reminded me to “talk hard” – I hope she will not mind be quoted…


“For me, I guess I just don't feel guilt about anything I write about. It's not me doing anything wrong per se. Well, anything wrong that is going to get me in big trouble, any way. Believe it or not there are some things I don't talk about in my blog, because it's too private and painful. But I think for writing to be worth reading it needs to be brutally honest, it needs to make the person reading it feel something. If I'm not willing to risk any part of myself then I don't think I'd be writing anything worth reading.”

And the thing is, she’s right. She’s so right it made me cry. And sit down and write three pages of ramblings to post. I hope I can get them more organized later, so that they will make more sense, but at this point it’s like when you’ve really really needed a good cry for a while, and you haven’t been able to, and then you finally sit down and watch {for me it’s the Color Purple or Steel Magnolias or Hope Floats, but basically the film that you KNOW will release your tears…} and you cry, whether it’s a quiet steady stream of tears, or an all out sobbing patch. Whatever it taken to get that horrible feeling out from inside you. And afterwards, you feel tired, worn out, but better.

Anyway, since I am making myself dizzy with my ramblings, I think I am going to break here and go outside and pick up stickerballs for a while. This is one of my favorite forms of meditation these days. Who knew?

[note – point to come back to later… why I love the word “eclectic” and how it influences my views on life and spirituality…]