Lighten Up

I have not cried since I’ve come to live in Hungary. I’ve felt so happy living here, away from school, with Seren’s lovely company, and with the whole world open to me.

But all of a sudden I’m realizing that things are not going to stay this way forever. I will go back. But back to what? I really don’t know. My mind is filled with questions, confusions, and feverish worries. What am I to do next? Maybe an apartment with Seren in San Francisco, maybe applying again to Mills, maybe both USF and Mills, maybe a year off, maybe another year abroad in Scotland… but when the time comes, who knows what will really be here for me?

I was talking to my father online. He tired helping me plan, but the tears started, despite the relaxed nature of the conversation. They just came. I couldn’t stop them. What am I supposed to do? I’ve been gone from USF for so long. Who knows what I’ll come back to? Will I be able to survive there for another year? It’s such a pain beneath my chest to imagine being trapped again. I don’t know why I felt so trapped at that school. But I just get this overwhelming dread when I think about returning to the way things where before. I need to breathe. I need to be free.

All I know is none of my options are quite ready. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. I don’t know where I belong. It’s a scary feeling. And so many thoughts wipe my smile away. I can hardly function with so many uncertainties. I need to make a change. At least I know that. But what if I don’t make the right one? How will I pull myself out the next time I need to be saved?

The hurt is coming back. I was safe for a while, and it felt so good. But soon this little world I created will fade away as I stare out the window of a plane. Gone. And what next? I’ll be alone again. On my own. Struggling with where next to put my feet. Will what I pick next become mine for longer than this little, delicate island? Am I ready for another complete, and life altering change? Can I handle the changes I need to make? I really hope so. I’m not as strong as I’d like to think.

It’s even scarier to realize that life at “home” isn’t going to stay a grounding space forever. I know the changes being made are good for the people making them. But… I can’t help but feel the shock of missing a step. It’s like now I’m not only alone, but I have to be…. We all need our little sanctuaries… it’s just hard when one person’s sanctuary changes, and I lose mine in the process… I’m happy my father is doing what he’s always wanted. I’m just going to miss home. It won’t be the same. And eventually that will happen to everything I’ve ever loved. They will change beneath my feet, and I will look upon them with a stranger’s eyes.

Sometimes I just feel like I can’t talk about my worries with other people. And that doesn’t have anything to do with not having a real phone, though I really do with I could hear a friendly voice. I just know how hard life can be for everyone, so I don’t want to make it more complicated by adding my problems to the pile. Who knows if I could really be honest about things I need to say. I don’t want to make things messier with my worries. I wish I had all the answers. That way, no one would have to worry. I’m silly I know. But I still wish I could save everyone. But I know it’s impossible.


I’ll just do my best to be strong and take things a day at a time… but my time is running out. I have to decide soon, and I’m not at all ready. I feel like I’m closing my eyes and pointing in a direction.

Sorry for the worries. I'll try to lighten up :P

To Feel

As humans we are proud creatures. When we do something we believe is out of the ordinary we want to tell people, so they can be excited for us. Like when we move to Hungary (that’s me), or get our nose pierced, or get recognized in paper, or make an artistic achievement, or win a sports event, or get boyfriend, or buy a new car, or discover family heirlooms, or get a drastic haircut… or anything… like becoming an iguana trainer.

But the part I’m just realizing is that no matter how excited you are about something in your own life, no one can ever see it the way you do. Maybe it’s amazing for you, but other people can only say, “hey! That’s great!” they can’t feel it like you do. And it’s not that they don’t care, I’m sure they do. But they can never feel it the way you feel it, because they are filled with their own meaning.

I think it’s a great skill to truly empathize. It’s painful sometimes, but also beautiful to catch the heat of someone’s feelings. I’ve always been a very emotional person, who can understand the emotions I feel, but sometimes because of this I have trouble transforming them into words for other people to understand. I know how strong emotions can be, and so I don’t want to burden others with them.

As a little girl I was dead on about reading emotions. I could feel them in the air. Emotions overwhelmed me and it was almost too intense for my little body. As I’ve gotten older, the people have grown and changed around me, and it’s also become harder for me to sense things. I haven’t thought about it until now. I had a dream last night about how it felt to sense someone’s emotions and it reminded me.

Often I can still sense feelings, I know they are there, but I let it pass by. It’s not true empathy. As people become more complicated, so become their feelings. Each feeling is harder to pick out from the rest. It’s harder to differentiate between thoughts and emotions. It’s a thin line because thoughts often trigger flashes of emotions, but they changed fast. But this is something I want to learn more about. I want to be able to really understand people, so that I’m not just one of those people that say, “oh! Neato,” or “man, I’m sorry dude.”

I think I’ve been scared off from this ability a little. With certain people, I can feel them stronger, but often these are the people that don’t want me to see them. So I’ve been shutting myself off; I haven’t been listening to my intuition. I guess I figured that if someone doesn’t want to be heard, I shouldn’t be filled with that person’s feelings.

I don’t know what’s better. Being with people who are in touch and tell me how they feel, so I don’t need to read them… or to be with people who can’t feel and need someone to understand them. Maybe it’s not my place to try and help… but if I’m needed, I’d like to try.

Doubletake

“Invest in light bulbs,” say the wise,
“Intuition is but lies.
Hold ‘em steady, make ‘em cry,
That’s the way. You don’t ask, ‘why’?”

But I’ve never liked the dreary.
I feel unsettled, the winds turn eerie.
Make no mistake. I cannot speak
With words that echo beneath your feet.

Pounding on the dead is useless.
The rhyme is broken just in time.
Will you double-take and kiss me?
Will you double-take me with you?

I always choose the dark corners,
The faded labels, the lonely foreigners.
I wonder why empty boots, all alone,
Stand proudly waiting on their own.

Envision snow just fallen fresh;
A perfect world like silky flesh.
A thousand footprints like a gift
To make the world unique, and swift.

Pounding on the dead is useless.
The rhyme is broken just in time.
Will you double-take and kiss me?
Will you double-take me with you?

I got it out. I said it twice.
And now I’ll have to pay the price.
The last thing I’d want to know is
That thing inside my head, although,

If it were me, indeed it is,
Then words or not, the say is his.
The well is split to the very core.
Quench the earth and let it pour.

Pounding on the dead is useless.
The rhyme is broken just in time.
Will you double-take and kiss me?
Will you double-take me with you?

As long as you just turn around…
Join the folly. Shake the ground.
Double-take.
And take me with you.

*Swears in Hungarian*

I’ve honestly not had a bad day since I’ve been living in Budapest. But today—or just the last few hours to be more accurate—SUCKED!

Okay so I’m attributing most of the unpleasantness to my being hungry. I just had a contemporary issues class that droned on and on past its time about my least favorite kind of history. The lesson spanned years and years, wars and wars, and flip flopped between countries without referencing a single person’s name. I hate this kind of history because it is so impersonal. It is the air-brushed version of history. The teacher feigned simplicity. He talked about the formation and collaps of different empires and neighboring countries, but with hardly any details. There were no specifics. It was as if no one had real names. It was as if Russia was home to someone named “Russians”, Hungary was where “Hungarians” calls home, and Germany is a guy named “Germans” lives. I mean sure this makes things simpler, to not mention specifics, but without the specifics, everything is so boring!

Also the teacher was hard to understand at times. Not his fault of course, he seemed like a nice man. Though my brain had to do several double takes when he said things like “i-dees” (for “ideas”) or “his-tor-e-ical” (for historical) or “in-thus-eye-asm” (for“enthusiasm”). He meant well I’m sure, but the class went on forever… and ever.

And then I had to walk back hungry, all alone in the dark and the cold.

I tried to stop at the only store I’ve ever seen to have tofu… but just as I was going to buy the makings for dinner, I hand over my credit card… and they only accept cash.

I wonder to myself, how much time am I wasting? Because I have plenty yet to do. Buuuut, I decided to try another store in any case.

I think of what else I might be able to make for dinner if I go to the DM. Sadly after looking around, they have nothing, not a THING I can use.

I’m really lonely at this point not being able to speak, discouraged, starving, and freaking out because of the local drunks in the alleyways that hoot as I walk by.

I finally go to Plus, the local store that has just enough to buy the bare minimum for dinner… but again, as I go to the cash register, they only take cash today, which never happens here.

Even more frustrated, I try to explain that I only want to buy the matzo and cheese, and NOT the other stuff, which takes a lot of gesturing and waiting. Finally I return home carrying my meager meal in my hands—they don’t give you bags for free in Hungary—and fumble my way up the four flights of stares…defeated.

I'm fine now. But i'm still going to do some yoga to cool off.

Strangely, I Feel Uplifted By This... Not :P

Squeaky Clean

So that was a quick cleaning right there. Gordon the landlord for the apartment is coming over in ten minutes, and the house was a little out of order. There is no rule about cleaning like mad before the landlord comes a’calling, but it always makes the “deal” seem safer. Not that he would throw me out if he witnessed a bra or two on the floor… buuuuut just to be safe I put them away.

Gordon is also going bring over some people who might rent the apartment when Seren and I leave for the summer, so we’re doing him a favor by cleaning up. Even when people know the apartment will be empty when they move in, seeing junk everywhere will probably deter them from agreeing to a contract.

I just wish we had some magic mice that would clean the floors for us. Wouldn’t that be nice? Even Lyra my puppy dog didn’t do a bad job. She would clean the floors diligently. There was one condition though: she would only clean the floors if they were covered with something delicious.

OH MY LONDON!

My trip to London was beyond my wildest dreams! After living in a place for so long, where every conversation starts with, “do you speak English,” it was such a refreshing weekend to hear my natural language spoken. Not only that! There were endless wonderful, floury English accents swirling around the city wherever I went.

It started out late on Valentines Day. Seren and I flew into Luton airport, which according to the hostel guy is the “shittyest airport in London.” He told me this before laughing and hanging up. I didn’t think it was so bad, though we did have to ride a bus for 2 hours before we actually made it into the city.

We looked for a place to eat out on Valentines Day, but alas we had to settle for McDonalds the only place open at 11:50. Romantic no? Haha, but I was just so happy to have made it to London.

We stayed in a hostel called Ashlee House. I got very little sleep in the hostel because we got up so early, but it was worth it. The next morning we went to the British museum and had a guided tour. I saw the Rossetta stone and everything! That place was huge! Seren was just going crazy to actually be in the museum. I was worried one of us would have a heart attack. Actually I was worried Seren would have the heart attack, and I would get run over by a double-decker bus while absentmindedly skipping across Abbey road.

Afterwards we went to St. Paul’s Cathedral, a tower giant of buildings. We walked into the basement part, which turned out to be a crypt. we wondered where we were. Surely, we thought, such a tall cathedral would have a higher roof than the dark dank room we found ourselves in. Then we found the steps up. Low and behold, it was like a second sky when I looked up at the ceiling. It streatched up forever and I couldn’t even see the top. We climbed all the way, stopping when we reached what we thought was the top; a curcular balcony that looked down on the rest of the church. Through we only discovered that this was but ¼ of the way up. There were even more steps. 259 total, which seems like such a lie to me. I thought I might throw myself onto the ground in exhaustion a few times, but I fought the urge. The view was worth it. We looked down at the puny roads only to have them distorted by distance. It was an incredible discovery. Looking up into the arches, I felt so lost in the grand existence of such a creation.

At dark we found our way to a cute pub called the Lucas Arms Pub. It was cozy, and bartenders were friendly. I had a half pint, just for the experience even though I hate beer. Of course the bartenders chuckled at our girly orders. The table across from us held the more common type of customers. People so drunk they began playing strip-spin-the-beer-bottle. It was quite entertaining actually.

We got back to the Hostel, exhausted, but we met some nice French guys who wanted us to join them at another bar called O'Neill's. Seren and I exchanged a glance and thought, why not. I’d never been bar hopping. And this place turned out to be REALLY popular. It was packed from end to end. We never found the French boys who were to meet us there, but Seren and I danced the night away and enjoyed ourselves listening to great music.

Saturday was the fullest day of all. We went to Big Ben, The tower Bridge, Buckingham Palace to watch the guards change, and Westminster Abby.
Westminster Abby was my favorite. Such a place of history. I gazed with wonder at all the tombs. Chaucer, Sir Isaac Newton, Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin, and poets who I’ve read for years: Alexander Pope, Wordsworth, and Shakespeare even! Though a lot of those were just commemorate plaques.

At night oh my! Oh my! What a night I had to enjoy. We went to Lord of The Rings the Musical! It was SO terrible! But so wonderful at the same time. haha. I got to see Gandalf dance, what a treasure. It was some of the worst acting I’ve ever seen, but the dancing Orcs were pretty fantastic, and the Ringwraith was frightening!

That night in bed, wrapped in my coat for warmth, I was awoken by the most unpleasant of things. The French boys returned to our room, totally pissed, and one of them brought a girl. I couldn’t fall asleep after that, as the couple began going at it, making little noise, but enough to keep me awake. And in a room of ten other people! I was reasonably grossed out, just hoping that they would hurry it up. I guess it was at least warmer for them than it was for me. London was freezing!

Our last day in London we went to the British Museum and saw the terracotta warriors from the Qin Dynasty in China. They were so alive, it was almost scary looking into their stoic faces. We had to wait in line for hours to see them, as it was a once in a lifetime chance. I was so impressed to lay eyes on something so old, that exuded so much power. I wished I could have touched one.

At last we finally made it to the tower of London. I would have wanted to live there, had I been alive then. And not in the torture chamber, mind you. It was like a little walled city. There was a whole museum dedicated to the crown jewels. Shiny! So sparkly! I had no idea how many times the crowns were remade, and the stones reset. What used to be the biggest diamond the world was there, but of course they had to cut it down. It was still beautiful of course, but only the size of my fist instead of the size of my face. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration :P

Then it was to Abbey Road! So much publicity, for just a little road. I was so happy to go though. It was dark dark DARK when we got there, but we made it after all. Too bad I didn’t know any songs from the Abbey Road album to sing.

The last pub we went to was the most amazing. It was called the Marlborough Head, and was decorated to look like a mysterious house, a haunted mansion, or something out of clue. I asked the bar tender where the bathroom was and he pointed to a bookcase. I looked back at him and said, “you’re kidding right?” “Nope. Just watch,” he replied and pushed on the bookcase to reveal a secret door. Then we got Treacle pudding tart! Like in Alice in Wonderland! It was a dream of mine to eat some, and it was absolutely scrumptious. And so was London in general! So glad I made it.

The Beautiful Face of Ruin

It’s the ideal Dream that leaves us lonely
It fills our thoughts and swarms the gates
Ravages our soul and burns our eyes to tears
We are but fools at heart

When Perfection walks
It leaves us cold with its piercing glare
A locked gaze with no reaction
Just empty violent eyes

You pass by the scene
As a soul defiled
Looking back from time to time
To where your breath was caught and your heart lays still

But my sweet
Regretfully you are mistaken
Never look back in the face of Arrogance
It is a thing of ruin

Such convincing features
And commanding gestures
Mask truth beneath the beauty
Such curving lips disguise a grin of daggers

Be careful when your wildest dreams
Are but feigned Integrity
They are merely a brilliant ruse
Only meant to trip you upon their mischievous path

It’s the lost presence farther on
Meandering at the bridge
Who will cross with you
All flesh blood and smiles

Watch closely this one
For they are truly meant to embrace
In an instant you will feel their radiance
Instead of haunting Lies