B.S. Subtitles April 13, 2013Posted by sarahsfate in Thoughts on People, Writing.
Tags: Experiencing Life, Life, Living, Love, people, Relationships, society, Thoughts on Life, writing
1 comment so far
Today I watched a movie called “Dakota Skye”. The main character is a girl named Dakota Skye who can tell when people are lying to her. She refers to it as her superpower although I think, and she says frequently throughout the movie, it’s more of a curse. I’m not sure I would truly want to know when someone lied to me. Especially in a world when the truth is so hard to tell.
Dakota is obviously surrounded by people who lie to her, including her boyfriend of 9-months who tells her he loves her while they are having sex and she sees this little subtitle at the bottom of the tv screen that says he means he loves sex. Her boyfriend’s good friend from back in the day shows up one day for a visit of a few weeks. He and Dakota end up spending a lot of time together, due to her boyfriend’s busy schedule with his band and her lack of a car. This friend, when he first turns up in the movie…I thought, no this can’t be the guy they’re talking about in the movie info on Netflix. He’s so not like Dakota’s boyfriend and really not like her either (that I could tell at that point). Plus, he’s kinda goofy looking, disarming really.
But as it turns out, this friend, Jonas, never lies to her. Which perturbs her. Confounding, really, this anomaly of virtue. But he’s insightful and considerate…and honest. I found myself actually liking him. No–not just liking him, wishing for a Jonas of my own.
At one point in the movie she thinks he actually lied to her but somehow the lie flew under her superpower radar, leading her to believe she can’t tell when he’s lying. So when he tells her he is in love with her she says “but how do I know?” He is naturally confused by her question, her superpower being a secret of epic proportions, and says “because I just said it?”
But really, how do any of us know?
People say “haaaa Sarah you’re so funny!” sure, I think, but…why aren’t you laughing? They say “sure I’d love to pick you up from the airport at 11:30 at night on a Tuesday” but, let’s face it, who really loves that? Obviously not. The lies don’t hurt anyone but in the long run we’re all a bunch of dishonest people who expect dishonesty from other people and therefore have no faith in people. We all become more self-reliant, more self-involved, less socially interactive, less loyal, less governed by an understanding that we are all in this together. Because we isolate ourselves by carving out the b.s….because it’s all b.s.
Technology being what it is…the b.s. is all there is. People put on their Facebook profile they went to college. You think that means a college degree but in reality they dropped out after the third semester. People on eHarmony put on their profile they absolutely adore spending time with their children or dogs…the reality is those comments are what people want to hear. That doesn’t make it true. It just makes someone an idiot for not seeing through it.
And if we do see through it…if each of us sees through all the b.s. with little subtitles at the bottom of the screen–what then, will we have?
Let’s Vacation July 23, 2011Posted by sarahsfate in My Own Personal Trials, PostADay2011, Thoughts on People, Writing.
Tags: Air conditioning, Dream, Experiencing Life, Family, goals, Hot tub, Hotel, Ice cream, Life, Living, Love, people, Personal, Recreation, Relationships, Shopping, Swimming pool, Thoughts on Life, Vacation rental, writing
add a comment
I had forgotten how saltwater effects my ears but, for the first time in years, the hearing in my left ear has returned. And so as my children squabble over the television channel, space on the hotel bed, and the hot tub, I can hear every octave of their shrieks and even their mutterings.
It’s currently almost ten o’clock at night and the children are finishing a long day with a dip in the hotel’s indoor pool. Well, two of them are anyway, my fourteen-year old daughter, having espied a good-looking boy with a mohawk in the hot tub, has decided she’d like to swim after all and has gone back to our room to change. After a short period of time she returned clad in her yellow bikini with her hair nicely combed.
My ex and I then began a conversation about the dating ritual and concerns of youngsters. My ex, Ben, referred to the kids (teenagers and all) as “carefree”, to which I replied “who, in that room, is carefree?” My argument being that a 14-year old girl is extremely sensitive to her expression, hair, laughter, outfit, swimming technique — every nuance of behavior matters. That’s not carefree — that’s all care.
And then Ben says how silly that is because guys that age don’t particularly care about any of that. She’s cute and that’s the be-all, end-all. He says the majority of men, as well, are this way. Good to know, I say.
It was nice, though, that we were all completely unconcerned with all nuances of behavior (other than behaving in a socially acceptable manner, that is) at the beach today. I didn’t even notice other women being particularly concerned with their persons. What I noticed, instead, were the families building poorly constructed sandcastles, flying kites shaped as hawks, and wading deep into the intense waves slamming to shore. The temperatures remained in the nineties, a lovely change from the over-100-degrees for three weeks weather back home, and the breeze remained constant.
My son, upon his first experience with the ocean, deemed it acceptable entertainment in his 6-year old mind with the exception of all that pesky salt in the water and, therefore, perhaps the hotel pool was better. Kids. My 11-year old daughter has outdone herself in remaining positive and atop our non-schedule. Directly after dinner tonight she, my son, and Ben went outside to be free of the arctic air conditioning system of the hole-in-the-wall we found, and my 14-year old and I sat inside, eating ice cream and discussing the benefits of moving to the coast.
We decided it was difficult to judge the benefits because it’s easy to enjoy a vacation spot when you don’t have to work or go to school because then there’s no stress or responsibility really. But if we moved to the coast, the stress and responsibility would simply follow us to the coast and then…would we still enjoy the coast better than home? It was too difficult to decide so we simply finished our ice cream, pondered the intensity of the waves some more, and then stepped out into the ocean air.
Letting Go June 11, 2011Posted by sarahsfate in My Own Personal Trials, PostADay2011.
Tags: broken dreams, Dream, dreams, let go, letting go, Life, Love, Relationships, starting over, Thoughts on Life
add a comment
Verb 1: let go of – release, as from one’s grip
Until today I don’t think I ever really understood the significance of letting go. I hear people say ‘let it go’ all the time when something is upsetting or annoying. Topically speaking, it just means ‘don’t worry about it’. Or when something bothers me I say I’m just going to let it go. Again, so as not to worry and stress over it. But this almost always means that whatever that something is, it is small. Insignificant.
Letting go, is entirely different.
Today I wandered around my house thinking about the past. The past equals all things that have effected me up to this point in my life. 32-years worth of little somethings that create a larger whole picture of Sarah. Some of those little things I no longer remember and it doesn’t mean that those things were bad things or boring things…they’ve just faded away. Some of those little things are happy memories I cherish all the time…things that have followed me through the many days, weeks, months, and years of my time here in this life.
Other things, though, are bad things. Sad things. Angering things. And today I thought about the sad things. One thing, in particular. I had this person in my life for years who I built so many dreams around and he was (in my mind) someone very special. Special to me. Special in this world. Just special. And I kept trying to find a way to fit him into my life even though no matter what I tried, I failed. And I’m not a quitter so I kept trying. For years. I simply could not let go of that dream. It’s like growing up with the plan to go to Harvard, or Julliard, or to be an actress or quarterback. It’s a dream for your future that you work towards in a lifelong commitment of smaller plans that lead up to the great plan.
But I’m the quarterback who sustained a life-altering knee injury in the game. And just like that, the dream died. Stubborn and unready to give up on the dream, I worked out and stretched the injury, slapped band-aids on it, fought back the tears. But eventually I came to realize the dream was over.
And still I fought against it. I’ve lived in my own mind now for a long time, sequestering myself and my future in and around this dream. Until today. Today I realized that no matter how much I still want that dream and no matter how much I think those band-aids might eventually turn into wound-altering sutures, I have to let it go. The idea of taking something I love with my whole soul, tying it to an invisible balloon and letting it float away on the breeze, is terrifying. Heartbreaking.
That’s how I know letting go of something is significantly different from letting something go.
Holes June 9, 2011Posted by sarahsfate in My Own Personal Trials, PostADay2011.
Tags: bored, Life, Love, writing
add a comment
“One must desire something, to be alive.”-Margaret Deland
I am 32-years old and have always loved a man. Not always the same man. When my heart has been broken, it has taken the desire of a new man in order to heal my heart and move on. Therefore, even though it’s not always been the same man, I’ve always loved a man.
The difference in my mood, behavior, and train of thought is obvious to me. I find very little funny, very little interesting, and very little worth the effort of any effort whatsoever. It’s deadening. I’ve been sitting here thinking tonight about the feeling…trying to figure it all out because I’m an overly-analytic person. And what I’ve realized is that Margaret is right…you have to desire something in order to be alive. Even if your desire isn’t a mate, you need the feeling of excitement — those butterflies, the breathless anticipation of whatever it is.
For me it is the breathless anticipation of the sound of his voice, the smell of his skin. When you desire someone, the whole world fades into insignificance, disappearing altogether until the moment of his arrival and suddenly the hills really are alive with the sound of music. It’s like that scene in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy steps out the front door of her black and white existence and into techni-color munchkin land.
I try not to be so stupid about love, I honestly do. And sometimes I’m fine. But other times, seems more and more frequently now while I’m in this hole, I wonder why I bother painting my face, artfully securing my long hair back, and changing out of sweats. Why do anything more exotic than rolling over in my bed and returning to sleep. Because the dreams are currently better than reality.
It’s pathetic I know. I just…I’ve never experienced this hole before. It’s as boring as this blog.
Just Like Life May 28, 2011Posted by sarahsfate in Everyone's A Critic, My Own Personal Trials, PostADay2011, Thoughts on People.
Tags: Arts, attraction, Cynicism, Family, finding love, Life, Love, Relationships, Romance, romantic, Sibling, Thoughts on Life, unrequited love
I have just finished watching a film called “I Capture the Castle” starring various actors I know of and some I do not. The movie was a bit of a slow story about finding love, turning away from love, and all the angst, desire, and heartbreak made capable by love. Has there ever existed love that did not also bring heartache? Love loves misery. Or it fights it. Or it finds it. In a world of 7-billion people and days and weeks filled with dozens of acquaintances, friends, and strangers…how do we find love? In a single week I may, may, see one man whom I find attractive enough for a second glance and that does not mean that I am hung up on looks…when I say attractive, I mean he is attractive to me. I do not look for the tall, dark, and handsome man…I look for one with an ease in his step, a careless smile, a spark of intelligence and wit in his eye. I notice his lips, the fall of his hair, and the way he holds his arms at his side as he walks. And sometimes…sometimes I see a man who catches my eye.
But I do not approach. Mostly, because I am at an age and stage in my life where the sheer idea of dating exhausts me. The effort that goes into the meeting, the flirting, the discovery of his past, the learning of his life, the hectic scheduling between work and children and school — why would I? When it does not work out in the end. I would have spent weeks, perhaps months, getting to know someone. I will end up either caring for him when he cares not at all for me, or I will come to dislike him greatly. I have been told I am too young to be so cynical about love and…the truth is…I am not cynical about love. I believe, wholeheartedly, that people find someone who will stand beside them in life, holding their hand, holding them up, and never ever letting them fall on their face unless they themselves are also on the ground and incapable of holding one up. I believe he makes her laugh with his charming manners and makes her meals of such exquisiteness for only one purpose: to see the light in her eyes. This man would not hurt his love.
No. I am not cynical about love. I am cynical about loyalty. The man I’ve mentioned is difficult to come by, the diamond in the rough, and just shy of impossible to find. At my age. At any age.
In the movie, there are two sisters and two brothers who find themselves at a chance meeting and fall for each other. Who falls for whom? Well, you might ask and I spent most of the movie wondering myself. One sister was proposed to by a brother very much in love with her, though it turned out that (even though she accepted his proposal) she was in love with his brother. And the other sister was in love with the brother who proposed. This is a story built on truth and, in fact, could very well be based on a true story. In the end the two that were madly in love with each other married and went away, leaving two very unhappy and lonely people to go their separate ways.
There was an ending to the movie…but not a happy one. Just like life.
My Spectre Around Me… May 21, 2011Posted by sarahsfate in Poems, PostADay2011, Thoughts on People, Writing.
Tags: Arts, Experiencing Life, failed love, Life, Love, Poetry, Relationships, Romance, unrequited love, William Blake
add a comment
***William Blake (1757-1827) uses the word ‘spectre’ to refer to his constant, redundant inability to embrace love…or the object of his affections. When he vows to ‘turn from female love’ he is not suggesting becoming homosexual or ascetic, but to give up the act of embracing love. He wants to be happy and decides that the constant attempt to embrace love is making him unhappy, so to break himself from the cycle of inability, he is giving up the pursuit.***
My Spectre Around Me Night and Day – William Blake
My spectre around me night and day
like a wild beast guards my way
my emanation far within
weeps incessantly for my sin
A fathomless and boundless deep
there we wander, there we weep
on the hungry craving wind
my spectre follows thee behind
He scents thy footsteps in the snow
wheresoever thou dost go
thro the wintry hail and rain
when wilt thou return again?
Dost thou not in pride and scorn
fill with tempests all my morn
and with jealousies and fears
fill my pleasant nights with tears
Seven of my sweet loves thy knife
has bereaved of their life
their marble tombs I built with tears
and with cold and shuddering fears
Seven more loves weep night and day
round the tombs where my loves lay
and seven more loves attend each night
around my couch with torches bright
And seven more loves in my bed
crown with wine my mournful head
pitying and forgiving all
thy transgressions great and small
When wilt thou return and view
my loves and them to life renew?
When wilt thou return and live
when wilt thou pity as I forgive?
Never, Never I return
still for victory I burn
living thee alone I’ll have
and when dead I’ll be thy grave
Thro the heaven and earth and hell
thou shalt never never quell
I will fly and thou pursue
night and morn the flight renew
Till I turn from female love
and root up the infernal grove
I shall never worthy be
to step into Eternity
And to end thy cruel mocks
annihilate thee on the rocks
and another form create
to be subservient to my fte
Let us agree to give up love
and root up the infernal grove
then shall we return and see
the worlds of happy eternity
and throughout all Eternity
I forgive you, you forgive me
as our dear redeemer said
this is the wine, and this is the bread.
The Invisible Voyeur May 16, 2011Posted by sarahsfate in My Own Personal Trials, PostADay2011, Thoughts on People.
Tags: Body language, Flirt, Flirtatiousness, Flirting, Languages, Life, Linguistics, Living, Love, Natural, Nonverbal communication, people, Single Life, society, Thoughts, Thoughts on Life
add a comment
1flirt verb \ˈflərt\ intransitive verb — 1: to move erratically : flit; 2: to behave amorously without serious intent
Today as I trudged through the office corridor, weighted down with purse and book-bag while juggling a travel mug of stale coffee, a styrofoam cup of ice chips, and my keys, I thought about a conversation I’d had with a sometimes friend. I considered how my life had changed since the day I met him, and all the ways I had changed. It seems our conversations remain the same, however, and this (at least) is something I can count on. I heard his voice in my head as though he moved beside me in that lumbering gait of his I find charming.
I was distracted from my thoughts by a woman’s laugh and I glanced up. Twenty or so feet ahead of me she moved towards the outer office door, leaning toward the gentleman who walked beside her, and laughed again. I was struck by her body language…not to mention the sparkle in her eye I could just barely see. Or maybe I imagined it was there. It was difficult to look away — mostly because I was following them toward the parking lot but also because I was struck by a memory.
She laughed in such a way…that flirtatious, throaty way, that a woman does when she’s charmed by a man. While moving steadily forward, she leaned toward him in an intimate way that he didn’t really reciprocate and I figured she liked him well enough but he wasn’t really on the bandwagon just yet. She laughed again, though I could not hear what he said to her, this time louder and the sound bounced around the tiled floor, travelling back to where I moved like a silent voyeur.
I thought about that memory I mentioned, about how I used to walk beside a man while laughing and gazing at him with sparkling eyes, somehow hoping and dreading that he would see my feelings. Or my appeal. Or…something. Today I considered the risk of body language. To me, it was obvious she liked this man walking beside her. So obvious he should also have been quite aware. Maybe he was but he didn’t seem to be. And even though her body language was screaming ‘I like you’…they just walked on with him murmuring whatever it was he was saying and her giggling like a 40-something-year old school girl. But for what it was worth, she was putting herself out there…trying to make a relationship out of nothing at all.
And this is what single people do every day. Meet new people and try to turn something out of nothing. Sometimes it works, and kuddos to the people who find the connections. It just seemed…lonely, to me. A lonely thing to do. I don’t know why. But I was struck with the feeling and turned my eyes to the cement as I trudged toward my car. The feeling remained long after I’d climbed into my car, turned on my GPS for traffic updates and made my way home.
There is fun and enjoyment to be had in flirting and engaging in pleasantly unaware obvious body language. There is a feeling that consumes you when someone looks at you and sees you. It’s quite possibly one of the most incredible feelings. I suppose the problem is…when no one looks at you, no one sees you. It’s like being an invisible voyeur.