Head Above Water

I haven't been this low in a long time. The semester's almost over and I am struggling to get out of bed each morning and begin to begin again. I'm tired of struggling and trying and failing and wrestling against despair. I want to wake up with all the rough edges of life straightened out, my day smoothed over me like a blanket, the corners tucked in nice and neat. Which is the exact opposite of everything lately. I'm treading water, treading water all the time, and I've lost feeling in my legs.

I don't want someone to tell me I can do it.

On some fundamental level, I know I can do it. I'm in law school, for crying out loud. It's not a matter of intelligence, for the most part. It's about blocking out the noise and taking step after weary step and staring your demons in the face, then shoving them aside because you don't have the time to see them reflected in your eyes. It's about knowing that your kingdoms are built of paper right now, but defending them as if they were made of gold. Keeping your head above the water and your tears behind your eyes. 

I want someone to tell me that even if I fail, it won't mean the end of everything.

That I am more than the number on my paper or the ranking in my class.

That every failure is the first step to success.

That in five years none of these grades will matter.

That taking time to breathe won't kill me. 

That I matter, and that I will still matter even if it all goes down in flames.

And the sad, ironic truth is if someone actually told me all that, I probably wouldn't believe them for a second. I've never been an average student in my life. I was setting the curve all through college, and I did it without reading for class half the time. At the risk of sounding like a douchebag, working towards my goals is a relatively new concept for me. As is burnout.

I'm tired. 

I'm so fucking tired.

I know I've been neglecting this blog lately. I usually try not to write unless I'm in a #happybloggingmood. Like when I have art to talk about, or some new piece of writing in the works, or just something to passionately (and incoherently) rant about. When everything I touch turns to gold. When the words are welling up inside of me and they desperately need to flow out. And I haven't felt that way in what seems like forever. 

I feel drained dry. 

I am writing from an empty place. 

It is new, and terrifying, and it feels pointless.

But every sentence I'm writing is just saying the same thing in different words. I exist, I exist, I exist. Over and over and over again. In this time, in this place, I exist and I speak my existence into the universe and I wait to hear the echo agree that I exist. I am at the end of myself, but I exist.

Maybe that's why we create at all, why we write and paint and sculpt and play our instruments into the silence. To say that we exist. To say that we are so many specks of dust on a rock spinning through space but we are here. In this time, in this place, we are here and we are speaking it out into the universe to hear it agree that we exist.

And maybe that's enough.

 

Seventeen Days Later...

Well, loyal reader (or "readers": is that too optimistic?), it has been quite the pause. Seventeen days, to be exact. Yikes.

 

This is the part of the post where I typically (1) apologize for my flakiness while (2) casually throwing in a perfectly legitimate excuse in order to (3) assure y'all that this won't happen again going forward, only to (4) miss a few days of allegedly "consecutive" blogging in the near future. And the cycle repeats, ad infinitum...

 

But you know the drill, and I'd rather not take up time and space going through it all again. So...

 

[insert generic apology here]

 

...Right, thanks for understanding. Now to get to the good stuff.

 

First, a brief life update: I have (nearly) made it through three (3) weeks of law school! Huzzah. It has been...quite the time so far. My first week I studied every day till ungodly hours of the night and got no sleep, but I did stay on top of all my coursework. The week after that I overcorrected in the self-care department and did the bare minimum schoolwork-wise--but I did have time for naps. Plural naps. Small victories worth celebrating. All that to say, I think I'm finally finding a balance between taking care of my workload and taking care of me. This week has been full of both, with even the unexpected gift of an hour in a coffee shop on a rainy Thursday morning just for blogging. And here we are.

 

I left off unpacking a poem on Day 12 of a proposed 66-day scheme to get into the habit of blogging daily. Welp, that was the last post in that project, at least for the time being.

 

Yeah...

 

That was quite the unceremonious announcement, so let me flesh it out a little.

 

Basically, rather than (1) blog consecutively for a few days, (2) miss a day..or two...or *sigh* seventeen, (3) apologize profusely, and (4) rinse and repeat the entire cycle again; I'm going to keep expectations realistic and table the whole deal for now. I hope to pick up where I left off when I have more time, hopefully over winter break in a couple months. But we shall see.

 

In the meantime, what will this blog look like?

 

So glad you asked (or rather, that I did. You're just here for the ride.) I'm still hoping to blog semi-regularly, ideally once a week at least, and hopefully more often than that. Even though it was only for twelve days, starting the daily blogging project did help me get into more of a habit of blogging than before. Now, when I haven't posted in a few days, I feel a faint nagging sense of guilt. And guilt is the first step on the road to improvement. Trust me (or at least let me convince myself that this guilt is healthy. Thanks.)

 

Today's post will be an extended life update (complete with photo-dump!) with more substantial content coming (hopefully) in a few days. 

Without further ado:

 

 

Obligatory beach photo to start, of course. I love the area I've moved to, and having the beach only half an hour away is a big part of why. So far I've been to the beach with friends three times, and I'm hoping to go again soon. 

 

Epic sand turtle a friend sculpted on the beach (I did the eyes; does that count as contributing?). For scale, this bad boy ended up being about three feet across. So magnificent.

 

The highlight of my first week here, tbh. I still have that Reese's somewhere and should probably eat it soon.

 

Not the best picture of it, but on my dresser is the calligraphy I made for Sleeping at Last's lyrics of the song, "Taste". I love the way this turned out and how it fits into my room decor.

 

One of the first things I cooked in my new kitchen! The beets turned out great, even though in the process of concocting this deliciousness I ended up staining my kitchen counter and the bottom of a glass dish purple. (I have a pale pink counter so the stain showed up realllly well. Also, after much scrubbing, it came off. Huzzah.)

 

Moi. This was taken in class on a day last week when I had forgotten a mask and improvised instead with a scarf I was wearing as a belt/sash. The lengths I go to for an education...Heh. This was actually quite the breathable set-up.

 

 

On the left, a study room in the law library where I spent 6+ hours yesterday and still didn't finish everything I wanted to. Life.

Honestly, though, the study rooms rock and I was way more productive than I would've been attempting to draft papers at home. I just have to get used to the idea that everything always takes longer to do than you think it will.

 

And on the right, my desk in the apartment the day I moved in.It has not looked this neat since, so I wanted to reminisce a little...also all the work I thought I would do here I have ended up doing in the library and at various coffee shops. Apparently, it's harder to do work knowing that just behind me is a comfy bed. Who knew.

 

Side-note: in the upper right corner you can see another work of calligraphy. For close-ups see my earlier post: https://dangerofdreams.blogspot.com/2020/08/day-8.html

 

 

And that's it for right now. Here's hoping to post again soon.

 

 

 

Till then,

 

Clara

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 12

I read somewhere that it takes 66 days to form a new habit. In the interest of getting into the habit of blogging regularly, I plan to publish one post a day for the next 66 days, finishing up on October 19, 2020. Content-wise, each day's post can include anything that crosses my mind and that I hope will spark something in yours, whether poetry, prose, art, or the occasional rant. Here's to 66 days of finding something to say :)

For Day 12, I'm analyzing the poem I posted yesterday.

 

Yesterday I shared a poem with y'all as part of a mini-series of sorts. Link below to get you caught up:

https://dangerofdreams.blogspot.com/2020/08/day-11.html

I mentioned the context of the poem, "World Keeps Turning": it was born out of frustration with a theology that emphasized God's grace without jointly emphasizing our great need  for that grace as sinners. I get it. You don't want to scare people away from the gospel by heaping condemnation and judgment on their heads right off the bat. And you don't want them to view God as angry and vengeful, just waiting for sinners to stumble so he can cast them off into the outer darkness.

God is easier to introduce to others as loving, forgiving, and saving. And He is, and He does.

But without a full understanding of how unworthy of love we are; how little we deserve forgiveness yet how much we need it; and how vast the rift between our sinful selves and our holy, righteous Savior; we can shrink God's grace too small.

We can lull ourselves into complacency,continuing in sin "that grace may abound" (Romans 6:1).

We can end up with a distorted view of God's love as enabling us to do whatever we want, which in turn distorts our love for others into enabling them to do whatever they want. And that's not a show of love to them on our part: it's a lack of care.

Now with all this in mind, we can start unpacking "World Keeps Turning". Throughout, the stanzas of the poem (formatted like this) are juxtaposed with their meanings and my haphazardly reflecting on them.

 

We tell the story as we heard it long ago

They gathered stones and threw her at his feet

He stooped in silence while they watched and let her go

Their quaking footsteps sounding out defeat

This first stanza recounts the story of the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-11). Intending to trap Jesus, the religious leaders of his day brought before him a woman whom they claimed to have been caught in adultery and asked him whether he would stone her as the law prescribed. Instead of answering their question, Jesus bent down and wrote on the ground with his finger, and then told them that whoever among them was without sin should throw the first stone at the woman. They left one by one, till finally only the accused woman was left with Jesus.

 

But we end the telling there, we forget the final lines

When he told her go, and sin no more, and looked her in the eyes

It's a powerful story with a poignant ending. Seeing that the Pharisees and scribes had all left, Jesus asked the woman if there was anyone who condemned her. She answered that no one had, to which Jesus said in his last recorded words to her:

"Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more" (John 8:11, ESV).  

I feel like the tendency here is to emphasize Jesus' compassion and lack of judgment of the woman. 

Come as you are and the Lord will not condemn you.

But that's not entirely accurate. By calling her previous action sin, Jesus does make a judgment of the woman, albeit in a compassionate manner. And how else can his order to "sin no more" be taken but as a charge for her to repent and live righteously?

Yes, by all means, come as you are. But know that the Lord who loves you enough to take you as you are also loves you enough not to let you stay there. 

 

Tomorrow I plan to unpack the next few lines of "World Keeps Turning", which speak to the effect produced by our tendency to gloss over sin with a wrong view of God's love and grace. I realize that this content is quite different from a lot of the writing I post on here. In the past, I haven't mentioned my faith much, if at all, because I didn't want to alienate any potential readers. But it's such an important part of my life, and I couldn't continue to write honestly without letting it permeate into my work. 

Thanks for sticking around through it all.

 

 

Till tomorrow,

Clara 

 

Day 11

Can I just start off with a big ol' "Yikes?" 

It has been SIX days since I last blogged...six (6) whole days. So much for consistently blogging every day.

I apologize for my general flakiness(mostly to myself since I'm trying to build a habit here, but I realize y'all are along for the ride too.)

In my defense I was attending my first week of law school...but that excuse will have to wait till later in the semester to carry more weight.

Where do we go from here?

The last time I skipped a day I combined Days 3 & 4 in one post. That worked at the time, but it's less than ideal for six (6) whole days of missed content. So instead I think I'll just extend the length of this project/experiment by six days. The great part about setting your own deadlines is that you tend to make exceptions to your own standards for yourself generally, so making an exception in any particular case is not too hard. That being said...

 

I read somewhere that it takes 66 days to form a new habit. In the interest of getting into the habit of blogging regularly, I plan to publish one post a day for the next 66 days, finishing up on October 19, 2020. Content-wise, each day's post can include anything that crosses my mind and that I hope will spark something in yours, whether poetry, prose, art, or the occasional rant. Here's to 66 days of finding something to say :)

For Day 11, I want to share a song/poem type-thing I wrote. Today I'm sharing it without too much context so you can form first impressions, and over the next few days we'll be teasing it apart to analyze for meaning

 

By way of introduction, I wrote this poem on the notes app of my phone one afternoon senior year of college. It was born out of frustration, actually. Frustration with the flimsy, "God-is-love" theology that I saw in so many churches pandering to my generation.

And by God-is-love theology, I don't mean to downplay the importance of love as a character quality of God. After all, God is Love (1 John 4:8). I mean blowing up a nebulous concept of love as this warm, fuzzy feeling and then applying that (Hallmarkesque, enabling, and all around wrong) concept of love to God. In its most extreme form, God-is-love theology would be more accurately termed Love-is-god theology. And it sounds just right enough to be dangerous.

So anyway, the poem:

 

9. World Keeps Turning

 

We tell the story as we heard it long ago

They gathered stones and threw her at his feet

He stooped in silence while they watched and let her go

Their quaking footsteps sounding out defeat

 

But we end the telling there, we forget the final lines

When he told her go, and sin no more, and looked her in the eyes

 

It’s a twisted sort of mercy

It’s a clouded shade of grace

Makes us wonder how the world keeps turning

Time and time again

The knife goes in, we twist it

We wring out our bleeding hearts

We wonder where we go from here, and how we’ve come so far

 

It’s a twisted sort of justice

It’s a silent stab of pain

And we wonder how the world keeps turning

Time and time again

We’ve poured out the horn of plenty

In a dry and desert land

Tossing dice with the devil

Playing hide-and-seek with the Reaper Man

 

How's that for first impressions?

It's late and I have early classes tomorrow, so I'll have to end this post right when things are just beginning. Rest assured, tomorrow we'll pick up where we left off and explicate this baby line-by-ever-loving-line.

Here's to every line and to everything in between them.

 

 

Till tomorrow,

Clara  

Day 10

I read somewhere that it takes 66 days to form a new habit. In the interest of getting into the habit of blogging regularly, I plan to publish one post a day for the next 66 days, finishing up on October 13, 2020. Content-wise, each day's post can include anything that crosses my mind and that I hope will spark something in yours, whether poetry, prose, art, or the occasional rant. Here's to 66 days of finding something to say :)

For Day 10, a post about....well, me.

 

Today, I'm fulfilling one of my biggest small dreams: blogging in a coffee shop. If you've read enough trashy fanfiction and/or coffee shop AUs, you'll understand why I'm *slightly* thrilled at this prospect. Just...the vibes, dude. The uniquely coffee-shop vibes. Essence of Chill Productivity. Eau de Work. A focused attitude that could not be more unlike the "hustle" culture of relentless millennial productivity that is never more than a couple steps from burnout. A hum of quiet conversation and the smell of coffee beans in the background. Chill music (which I'm blocking out with headphones and my indie folk playlist, but, like, it's the thought that counts.)There's a mom playing board games and eating muffins with her two kids at a table just opposite me and I'm falling in love with all of them just a little more every time I covertly glance over. 

Of course, now that I'm in the perfect setting, I have nothing substantial to actually say. Life.

Fortunately, there is subject matter that I always carry with me (because I have no choice): Me. 

I've said comparatively little about myself the entire time I've had this blog. Part of that is because this blog isn't really about me: it's about the writing process, mostly, with a few other things thrown in. And a large part is because I don't want to give any creeps lurking on the internet the chance to track me down and kill me. Given that my readership consists of like two of you on a good day, I realize that this is somewhat presumptuous. Indulge me. 

But the most important reason for my lack of self-revelation (yes, even more so than watching out for hypothetical creeps) is, quite simply, that I hate self-revelation. 

I've perfected the art of answering "How are you?" with "Better now!" *looks significantly at the other person* or some other variation of an answer that deflects the focus back to the other person, especially when I'm clearly not okay but don't want to talk to them about it. Ironically, those situations would probably be the times I most need to reach out to someone. But why would I ever do that when pushing them away is so much easier?  

This, ladies and gents, is only the first stop in our exclusive tour of Clara's Vast and Terrible Museum of Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms! Now just this way, folks, where next we'll view Clara's habit of reaching out to others to avoid thinking about her own issues...

Whew. Too much? Well, so am I. Heh.

I've always been more comfortable talking about what I've created or achieved, or what I'm thinking about or researching at any particular time, than what I'm feeling or how a situation is affecting me. That in large part stems from being uncomfortable with feeling any emotion too strongly. That in turn comes from feeling every emotion too strongly whenever I let myself feel them. I'm an empath (according to the uncontested wisdom of a myriad of internet quizzes and conversations with friends): I don't sympathize with people as much as I feel their pain like a physical ache in my chest. Which, frankly, is exhausting. So I limit my circle to as many people as I can handle interacting with on any given day in terms of residual emotions I will pick up without being able to help it, ideally with time to de-escalate and process after each interaction. And it ends up being a pretty small circle. Which can be lonely and frustrating and isolating. Aarrrghh...

I wouldn't have it any other way, though. The same hypersensitivity that can leave me completely drained after prolonged conversation with a particularly animated person allows me to write believable characters and situations by tapping into how the person made me feel and writing out of that discomfort. Knowing that emotional overload looms on the horizon has made me more intentional, choosing to spend time with people who enrich my life instead of those who "use up the air in the room", figuratively speaking. I'd like to think it's made me more perceptive, considerate, and an overall nicer person to be around. At least I hope so. Honestly, Covid-19 has been quite the godsend when it comes to socializing, at least for me. You mean I can have a constantly valid excuse not to see people? Hallelujah.

So there it is, the constant push-and-pull between needing people and not being able to stand them in large doses. Life is full of juxtapositions, and when we see someone who's mastered the art of tiptoeing the ragged edge of disaster between two extremes, we call them a well-adjusted human being.

This didn't end up being the light-hearted "all about me" post that I intended when I started writing, but I hope it's given you a glimpse (however brief and muddled)of the girl behind the keyboard. It's been a wild ride so far--thanks for sticking around this long.

Till tomorrow,

Clara

 

 

 

 

Day 9

I read somewhere that it takes 66 days to form a new habit. In the interest of getting into the habit of blogging regularly, I plan to publish one post a day for the next 66 days, finishing up on October 13, 2020. Content-wise, each day's post can include anything that crosses my mind and that I hope will spark something in yours, whether poetry, prose, art, or the occasional rant. Here's to 66 days of finding something to say :)

For Day 9, I want to share about a project that's been in the works for...years. It's very close to my heart :)

 

I don't understand why so many coming-of-age movies and books romanticize high school. High school sucked. But Clara, the bright and critical reader who has read ahead in this post challenges,you literally wrote a musical about high school. To which I say: Touche. Ya got me. If you look back at that first sentence, however, you'll soon realize that it's not high school itself I have an issue with,but rather the unrealistically rosy picture of high school often portrayed in so many stories. I admit that my own writing on the subject can seem unnecessarily dark,maybe in subconscious-yet-direct retaliation to this particular overused trope. Who's to say.

The germ of the idea that led to writing Shadows the musical came from my own high school experience. I struggled with some mental issues as a high-school freshman, some of it the normal hormone-fueled angst that is a rite of passage for adolescence, some of it severe anxiety and depression that persisted well into my college years (I finally started counseling for it senior year of college. Long story beyond the scope of this post. Therapy's great; y'all go get some if you need it.)

Anyway, back to Shadows. It started with a couple lines popping into my head (which eventually made it into the title song): Though the monsters on the walls are only shadows / They're closing in on me from day to day. Dismal? Well, yes. But accurate? Also yes. And especially to the high school experience, in my opinion. So many of the worries and fears ("monsters") we experience during high school are "shadows", intangibles born out of our own imaginings, or at least enhanced by them. I dare you to list one problem from high school that still bothers you today. The problems in our heads are far worse than the ones we interact with in the real-world. 

And so many things in high school are built up as important, all-or-nothing issues... but only during high school. Studying for a class matters...until the class is over. Then you never touch the information again. Busting your butt to ace the SATs matters...until you get the score you need. Then the material can fly out of your brain; you no longer need it. No one in college cares what you got on your SAT: you're all on the same sinking ship that is higher ed and the current struggle matters more than your past success. Being part of a particular social clique matters...until two days after graduation. Five years after high school the only interaction you'll have with some of your former "friends" will be when they try to recruit you for their direct-marketing scheme online. And I'm sorry in advance for that. 

Everything felt redundant in high school to me because, given enough time and distance, it was.

Shadows tells the story of a high-school senior, Adam, who in some sense is coming to terms with the ridiculousness of it all. He's tired of struggling to keep his place in the high school pecking order when it doesn't matter to him. After the sudden death of his estranged father in a car accident, Adam is left devastated. He and his father had just been beginning to mend their relationship over the past year, and now another foothold in his life has been ripped away. He can't accept that the death was an accident, going so far as to hire a down-on-his-luck private investigator(such a farcical, humorous character to write) to find evidence to the contrary . His outward struggles with being placed in a foster home following his father's death mirror his battles with the demons inside. Through a series of failures and an unlikely friendship with his Western Civ teacher, Adam learns to let go of the need to have all the answers. He learns that life goes on if it is lived, not merely deciphered from a distance.

Pretty hefty stuff. In retrospect, I probably should've cut a few supporting roles and minor plot arcs. I most likely will do so, but I can't bring myself to make those cuts just yet. 

Instead, today I want to share a couple of songs from Shadows the musical with brief explanatory notes. Here goes:

 

1. "Shadows"

The title song of the musical, sung by Adam shortly after his father's death. He has just been sent to his foster placement, thus the references to going "home again."

Adam:

The light fades from the sky

Leaving me alone in an endless night

When it’s dark, the monsters come to find me

When I’m all alone and out of sight

 

And though the monsters on the walls are only shadows

They’re closing in on me from every side

And nothing that I tell them makes a difference

There’s nowhere I can go to hide

 

[Chorus]:

Shadows, whispers, half-forgotten memories

That tell me everywhere is somewhere

And every day is now

Fighting, yearning, hoping, disbelieving

That tomorrow is another day

And I can go home again

 

The stars dance in the sky

Lighting up the dark of this endless night

Until the day dawns, I stand up alone

And I’m dancing with the shadows on the walls

 

And the monsters on the walls are only shadows

And they flicker as they fade away

And all I have to tell them doesn’t matter

Nothing that I tell them makes them stay

 

[Repeat Chorus]

 

Yeah, tomorrow is another day

The shadows come, the shadows stay

And I can go home again

And I can go home again

Home again

2. Absolutely Revolutionary

This song introduces the character of Alexander Kane, Adam's Western Civ teacher. It's his first year of teaching and this song captures his youthful idealism about the positive impact he intends to make. Whether he can live up to those self-imposed expectations is a different story (spoiler: he can't).  

Kane:

This morning I looked in the mirror

While tying my lucky striped tie

I flashed me a grin, before I begin

To begin again

This morning I smiled at the mirror

For the first time in a while

At the guy I saw standing there

How long has it been?

 

I remember when that guy was just a boy

Thinking that the world was mine for the taking

Playing like the world was just a toy

Like everything was mine for making and unmaking

 

Oh I’ve done my share of living

Of giving and forgiving

Of being and doing and striving to see what’s ahead

Oh I’ve done my share of wandering

Of reaching, searching, climbing

Of falling and landing on my feet again somehow

But not now

Not now

 

[Chorus]:

I intend to be absolutely revolutionary

I intend to be what I never was before

A rebel and a revolutionary

Now and forevermore

I open the door

 

Oh I’ve done my share of living

Of giving and forgiving

I used to think I knew what life had in store

I’ve done my share of sighing

Of falling, breaking, crying

Of spending the night hoping I’d live to see another dawn

But not now

Not now

 

[Repeat Chorus]

I open the door

I open the door

 

3. The Hunt is On

And finally, a bonus funny number to lighten the mood somewhat. J.D. Hennessy, the hilariously incompetent private investigator that Adam unwittingly hires, sings this high-energy song as soon as Adam is out of earshot in the waiting room in an attempt to get his overworked secretary Julia Finch on board with his impossible scheme. Intending to recover his reputation while providing Adam no actual assistance with a situation that the police have ruled as an accident, Hennessy is prepared to lie, cheat, and swindle his way to the top. This song is currently incomplete, but it will continue in much the same vein as the bit below:

Hennessy:

Don’t let him out the door

Till he’s signed on the dotted line

Don’t let him walk away

Till we’ve got some reward for our time

 

It’s been far too long, Finch

It’s been far too long

For a chief investigator

For a detective of incredible finesse

To be idle and distressed

To be bored –it’s unacceptable

Unbelievable, inconceivable—

Don’t let him out the door!

 

And I know you think I’m crazy

And I know you think we’re done

But believe me, Finch

Believe me now, when I say the magic words:

The hunt is on!

 

The hunt is on!

And you and I will be heroes

The shot is fired!

And we’re raring at the bit to go

This could be my chance

If I play it right

This could be the one big chance I’m given in this life!

 

And that's it for now! Hope y'all enjoyed this little snapshot into a project very near and dear to my heart. It's undergoing pretty extensive revision at the moment, but I hope to be able to share more in future.

 

 

Till tomorrow,

Clara