Empathy transcends the regular mind. You might be smart, or funny, or creative, but what's the probability of you crying at something? Why do we cry at these songs or movies, or moments?
When I get bored, I time myself to see how fast I can bring tears to my eyes. It's an acting thing. I'm working on my sad face.
But why is it that some songs can make me cry in two seconds?
I hummed the Finding Nemo theme today and set a record for how fast I made myself cry. I don't know.
Good night.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Monday, November 18, 2013
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Type
I find it interesting when people say- "that's not your type."
How does someone else determine type? I listen to mostly quiet indie folk, which meant for a bit of a change when I listened to a well-known hip hop song with absolutely vile lyrics.
But someone who didn't know me would probably determine that I'd hate this song.
Nope!
How does someone else determine type? I listen to mostly quiet indie folk, which meant for a bit of a change when I listened to a well-known hip hop song with absolutely vile lyrics.
But someone who didn't know me would probably determine that I'd hate this song.
Nope!
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Collapsible
Depending on the day, I am made of different material.
Today, I am the "Fragile: This Way Up," cardboard piece- collapsible and flimsy, but strong enough to support what it is holding.
Man, am I tired.
I gotta get in bed.
Today, I am the "Fragile: This Way Up," cardboard piece- collapsible and flimsy, but strong enough to support what it is holding.
Man, am I tired.
I gotta get in bed.
Witching Hour (Make up for 11.15)
There comes a time of night (most usually early morning) where you break your walls down and sit in the ruins. You are vulnerable, but truthful, with no bricks or concrete to disguise you from who you really are.
You can talk about anything there, sitting on the stump of your self-consciousness, the severed pillars of your own self esteem.
And when you build that wall right up again the next day, it doesn't seem quite as high again.
You can talk about anything there, sitting on the stump of your self-consciousness, the severed pillars of your own self esteem.
And when you build that wall right up again the next day, it doesn't seem quite as high again.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Explanation
Thinking about how to explain something is often harder than actually explaining.
In my case, someone else explained it for me.
You took the words right out of my mouth, poking a straw into my heart and sucking until all my feelings popped out into your outstretched hand.
Thank you. It made the lonely part easy.
In my case, someone else explained it for me.
You took the words right out of my mouth, poking a straw into my heart and sucking until all my feelings popped out into your outstretched hand.
Thank you. It made the lonely part easy.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Stories
The stories we tell come in unexpected places.
The director likes to refer to our show as piece of a bigger story, each of us just the scrapbook cuttings of a bigger collage that will (come one week!) be glued together well enough so that we don't fall apart.
I don't know what my story is, if I'll find it in facial expressions, or buried knee deep in props and costumes, or cradling a lacrosse stick before flinging the ball-child in search of another mother.
Maybe it will be through writing? My thoughts have gotten mumbled. Unmumble them please!
The director likes to refer to our show as piece of a bigger story, each of us just the scrapbook cuttings of a bigger collage that will (come one week!) be glued together well enough so that we don't fall apart.
I don't know what my story is, if I'll find it in facial expressions, or buried knee deep in props and costumes, or cradling a lacrosse stick before flinging the ball-child in search of another mother.
Maybe it will be through writing? My thoughts have gotten mumbled. Unmumble them please!
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