late night philosophical spewings
Lately I've been feeling I need an adrenaline kick (or to kick some that's in me out)- I want to fight some one (Fight Club anyone?), to run as fast and far as I can, to be a hero in an action movie (Batman, Bond)- to push my body harder than I ever do- really, to wrestle with some one or something, because I'm wrestling with a lot of things inside and I need to bring them into the light to expose them.
I am a writer a poet an artist a philosopher- or no, I'm not, but I have the potential to be, I have the choice between surviving and living. and you're probably thinking, this rich little white girl, what does she know about surviving, but I tell you, we all know about it- it just takes different forms for different people. We all know the difference between surviving and living, when we care to admit it to ourselves. Time to pull off the mask and look my fears in the face until I realize they were never a threat.
I feel solid, more contained than I have in days. I feel cool, and yet not myself, a new Rebecca has stepped in and taken her place- I feel simultaneously selfish and more selfless- I can't trace down exactly where I end and everything else begins, and yet I am certainly Apart. I am an aggregate of my social conditioning and experiences and history and culture (nurture) and genetics (nature). Of course somewhere in there I hope there is an element of independent choice, but perhaps this is just another attempt to affirm my own ego.
Is this new feeling confidence? And is it resolving my fears, or just burying them deeper?
Friends are home. The farm continues in it's cyclical pattern of Tuesday, 7 am to Saturday 4 pm, seeds are pushed into soil, sprouted, stored, watered, sheltered, intake nutrients, planted and transplanted, grow there lives away out there in neat little rows, are cut down, counted, washed, weighed, arranged, collected, prepared, digested, excreted (had to mention that last one). 14 more picnic table lunches to go (is that all?), the season wears on all year without me, i have only seen the tip of the iceberg. It is important work yet inescapable, dreary, because as humans we MUST eat, and that is perhaps a burden disguised as a pleasure. A band aid to a wound.
Maybe I'm talking crazy right now because I haven't slept much lately, though I did fall asleep for 4 hours this afternoon (another sign things are not normal).
How can I say in words here what my life is really like? You cannot know, and I know but cannot understand.
Maybe I'll come back to the farm next season. Certainly some farm, some season. There is so much more to know. Mostly my job has been doing the work, not understanding it. There is so much to understand, but much of that understanding must be got by more doing too. I like the people a lot.
So my two good friends are not coming back to college. I am taking a heavy science course load at the hour I am considering art and art school, I am considering alternative options though I know that they are not the Solution, just another part of me that wants to be satisfied. At least I don't have to pay for school. yet.
Perhaps all this thinking is a waste. After all, how many countless precious hours have I spent predicting, planning to worrying about things that in the end never happened, or whose outcome was different from all my guesses?
I am a far more confident and powerful person in my roots than I currently act or believe- a powerhouse, as my mom once told me. Of course this is egotistical and so are you, so are we all. But I just feel special sometimes. I feel this is wrong. But I feel it nonetheless.
Maybe remnants of a past life. Or maybe the Spirit moving through me. Sometimes I feel it, like water, or light, and I am just the medium for it. Do you ever feel that?
I think people who show their pain are beautiful.
I think I am attracted to bisexual intelligent artistic and hurting guys. Some women too, recently, or is that just me trying to convince myself I'm bisexual? I certainly despise manly men- I want some one my equal.
I also at this point think sex is overrated, at least when it's not coupled with other things- friendship, other activities, compassion, understanding, love. We're all just flesh. Flesh that needs love.
The more I understand gender differences are artificial constructs of society, the more I notice how much our society tries to maintain them with the media and other ways.
It's good I'm working on the gender issue, but I haven't even begun to tackle the racism in me it's so large. It's not easy, even being privileged, trying to deconstruct the internalized oppression 2000 plus years of civilization has accumulated in my 20 year old mind.
20 years old! What a good age to be! We don't have to lose our experimentalism, enthusiasm, ideals, openmindedness- these things are not property to this time of our lives, and despite what society tells you you should be at any age, you will have to decide for yourself.
I apologize for preaching. I feel icky for posting my personal life on the internet and subjecting you to it. But I'm still posting it, so that must say something about me. Oh well.
I'm going to bed now.