The Capitial-T Truth about the Tattoos

It occurred to me the other day, actually the day after I got my tattoos, that not everyone would understand why I got the tattoos in the first place nor would they understand what they meant. For some reason this hit hard, and probably because it was something I should have thought of before I got the tattoos. But i didn't. I was in such a one track mind. I wanted the ink. I wanted the permanence on my body. I wanted the art.

 The first tattoo I got was a simple wave on my wrist. I knew getting it on my wrist would mean that many more people saw it, it's the easier of the tattoos to explain, because in passing conversation the wave represents my love for the ocean, my love for water. But in a deeper and more authentic conversation, the wave itself is a symbol for the ocean which in turn is a symbol for the metaphor of comparing people on earth to the drops of water that make up the ocean. Philisophically there seems to be an infinite number of drops of the ocean with one of the biggest factors differentiating them is each one's salty-ness (haha). And really, the same goes for people in the world. At times it feels like you make little difference in the world becuase there are just so many other drops of water, but every single drop of water creates a ripple effect in the ocean. Every drop of water is part of the eb and flow of the ocean. All drops, no matter how salty, really do matter. And if the only reason they matter is just to be apart of the ocean, than that should be enough because the ocean is a pretty majestic thing to be apart of. Overall, its just a reminder that being part of this really majestic thing called life is always worth it when I start to get too exsestential with myself. Putting it on my wrist wasn't just because I could take cool pictures with it.






 The second tattoo I got was a quote from the commmencmence speech written by the late David Foster Wallace, it reads "This is water". Even in the time I could take to describe exactly what it means to me, it still wouldn't compare to the person I was explaining it to actually reading the speech and then talking to me about it. So honestly, I'm not even going to begin to say what this tattoo is all about.
"This is water" - David Foster Wallace
Mostly what I can say about this tattoo is that I got this for myself. For now, this tattoo means what the speech means to me. The timing at which I got the tattoo is coiencidental with the passing of a dear friend of mine. This brings me back to the beginning of this post. What I didn't know, but now do, is that a lot of people think I got this tattoo to commemorate my friend. This, for some reason, dumb founded me. I guess it was just one of those things that was so obvious to me that I didn't even think about the different interpretations it could have. I think its sweet others would think I got this in memory of my friend, but I also think others don't know the pain the passing of my friend has caused me.

In any case, and any interpretation others may have, it won't bother me and I think it will provide for interesting conversation in the least.
To quote another friend who quoted this to me from a stranger "People get tattoos for one of two reasons: 1. To make a statement to others. 2. To make a statement to themselves."

Blue, Blue, Blue, and You.

I once wrote a poem in my english class on the color blue. I said: Blue smelled like the ocean, it was a breathe of fresh air. It sounded like music, a piano solo, calm and steady. And blue made me feel overall positive- contrary to popular songs. The touch of blue was soft and silky, but sometimes a little chilly. And blue looked like the big empty sky in the middle of a warm summer day It tasted like ice cream, sweet and refreshing Then a year passed, and winter turned to spring and I added to the poem: But now when I think of the color blue all I can think about is how blue smells like your conditioner at the nape of your neck And it sounds like your sleepy voice in the morning And blue feels like you eyes looking into the depths of my soul Now blue isn't an empty, its the limitless possibilities when I'm with you And the taste of blue, too good to be true, your soft "I love you,too" kiss. But a long ways from an 'unphotgraphable beach' and there is only one thing I can add to the poem: Blue, makes me miss you.

Growing Up

It's come time for the quite expected and quite hackneyed post about growing up. Such a cliche topic for every young adult my age requires a bit of patience from the audience who has been through it, and a little empathy from the audience who is currently going through it. I thought to myself some time before I graduated that this post would come far sooner than it actually has. One month and two days after graduation it finally feels like time to make it internet official. I the heavy hearted, insomniac, and naive junior who started this blog is now a clear headed, slightly broken hearted, maturer college freshman who will hopefully display more discipline in keeping up my writing. It feels good to have graduated and to move on, from school that is. One of the things that feels the best actually is this innate amount of respect that is immediately added to your self worth by other people just because you have graduated from high school. It truly feels like I have just been welcomed into a secret society of the world; sure, I'm still going through a bit of a hazing stage and not fully accepted, but getting in is half the battle right? Part of me likes to wonder what secret rules, come with this secret society. Just the other day I sent a text to a friend that started out "haha, ..." I might as well have dropped the phone and shuddered. How junior high! Surely I was more mature and could hold better conversation than that that constituted me in all seriousness using "haha" to get through the conversation. (And to those who have long been a member of this secret society there is a distant difference between "lol" and "haha" and there is a distinct difference to someone my age using either with someone your age than with someone our own age). Along with making me shudder, this whole event made me come out of auto-pilot for a minute and realize how detached I was being. Halfway through a car ride home from anywhere, the grocery store, L.A., Uganda, there will be a moment when I realize I've been on auto-pilot and I suddenly tune back into my life and think "wow, that went by faster than I thought it would." It's like I went through some type of time warp in these moments, and these past couple of days I've realized that my whole life feels like a car ride halfway home and now I'm lucid for the rest of the drive. So, I finally have to grab hold of the steering wheel and pay attention. I can't say in truth that I am thoroughly thrilled about this. I do fear the monotony that life can bring and my love for routines- together a deadly combination. This all makes me think back to another post on this blog. After I got back from volunteering in Belize I had felt as though I peaked and was hesitant to go back down the mountain. I'm not sure what I've done this whole year. Its a bigger mountain than I previously imagined, that I know for sure. College admissions and rejections, getting out of this bubble town, and thinking an bit more outside myself has knocked me off my high horse and back on to the ground. I think it was a bit arrogant of me to even think I had peaked in any part of my life. The "high school was the best part of my life" mantra is not one for me. There is much to learn, much of the world to explore, and many, many more people to talk to. In a compact thought, I know I am finite in an infinite world, and I feel comfort in knowing that. With nearly a month of summer left I am beginning to hear the clock tic-tock in the back of my head. It's starting to drive me a little crazy. I'm finding it hard to decide whether the future is near, or the future is now.

This Blog

I haven't had a lot to write and post on this blog because lately I have been internalizing and attempting to redirect the energy elsewhere. In the past few weeks, things have dangerously resembled the events of last year. The largest difference this year is the way I've reacted this time around, and thank god I'm not a slow learner. As many things come to a close this year the term senioritis has become more clear to me. Senior year is not the the year everything ends, if it was there would be a lot of people working furiously to finish- it would be crunch time. Senior year is a year of waiting for what you've been looking forward to and actually want to do, to begin. That's why a lot of  people just sort of don't do much senior year academically wise, time spent with friends and family seems much more valuable. Doing things that go against the norm and the expected seems much more exciting. And, I lost my train of thought.

Every time I sit down to write down some thoughts for this blog it always ends up as half an idea. My head feels scattered an unfocused because I don't care about high school anymore. After my last AP test this friday I'll be worry free with only movies, a few finals, and a project here and there to occupy my school day.

Up until today I haven't really been looking forward to graduation. I mean, I haven't not been looking forward to it, but it just didn't seem all that important. Up until now, when I just watched a scene of seniors graduating on a TV show did I suddenly become really, really excited. I feel like graduating is going to be the opposite of death. Everything is will be a fresh start. Right now, i'm slowly coming back to life. My mind is clearing up and the things that I thought mattered, really don't and I don't think I've ever felt a better feeling.

The only thing I find to be scary at the moment, is how willing I feel to cut all ties with this town. In the past couple of months its brought me a lot of grief and I'm ready to be over the grief, anger, and overall bad feelings.

I'm excited to leave high school and all the things I find immensely annoying and all the people that are immensely ignorant. I'm excited to be an engineer. I'm excited, and it feels great.

Coins

In extremes simplification, the world works like this: what you put in, you get out. To me anyway. But sometimes we get impatient and it feels like we aren't getting out all that we've put in. Then we are at a crossroad. Do you continue to put in and have that blind faith, or do we change something, start all over again.  It's kind of like those machines at casinos or chuck-e-cheese were you put your money in the slot of the machine and they roll down on to the the moving table, and you sit there and keep putting in your coin hoping that that coin will be the coin that pushes the mountain of coins over the edge. But it's not that coin. That coin slides down, rolls a little, does a little bounce, and then it wobbles a little and falls right on top of another coin rendering it useless. So you sigh, watch the moving table go back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, all the while you hold a coin in your hand, turning it over until your palm starts to get a little sweaty. So, finally you hold the coin at the slot, focus on the moving table, and then you push in the coin and watch it slide down and fall. 

Eventually, you'll get what you put in the world, in one way or another, I'm sure of it. Sometimes, I just wish you would know when to stop putting in your coins. 

Our Little Needles

Today in my TA class for a freshman honors English class we continued watching the movie "I am" a sort of documentary on the ongoing research to prove just how connected, and we are in fact connected, to everything in the world, human or not. 

The movie got to a scene where a leading scientist was showing us how our emotions affect some yogurt in a cup. They almost lost me. And had it been any other day, they would have lost me. But they put some sensor things into the yogurt, turned on the little machine and they asked the director if he was married to which he answered "next question... Not anymore.. Jeez" and lord behold the little needle on the little machine twitched. 

I'm not sure how much I believe I'm connected to some yogurt in a cup but I get the idea, and on a more practical level-it makes sense. 

This past weekend, I lost a classmate to a car accident. She sat next to me in my government class and was the literally the best seat partner you could ask for. I wasn't close to her like a lot of my classmates were, but I still feel the loss. 

In this situation, in today especially, I feel like the yogurt, and when someone cries, sniffles, has an expression of grief on their face.. My little needle twitches, and then I balance back at rest and then another person crosses me and I twitch again, and so on and so on. The pain could not go unfelt, and it seems like when it is all too much for one person we beckon another to us to help share the heavy load. And to this we do unyielding. To help seems like a reflex. 

But now I've just been through my first two periods of the day and I'm not the only yogurt cup anymore. My classmates left and right have their little needle twitching over and over again. 

And now I lay in bed, thinking on the day. Thinking of our little needles twitching at each sniffle, until suddenly our needles are drops of water and we are all an ocean. An ocean so irrefutably one and a million things at the same time. And in silence we are calm, in laughter we are a gentle roar, and in everything else we are a storm. 

Reaching the Peak.

I think in sixth grade I read this book called "Peak". It was the typical book to capture a sixth graders attention. The main character had an odd name, Peak, his parents were divorced, he climbed buildings and marked them with his on logo, and never really got into any real trouble.

 But he did vandalize buildings right? Right. So something had to be done. Instead of him going to Juve or anything like that his mom and the police sent him to live with his Dad who was, of course, climbing Mount Everest. So naturally Peak climbed it with his dad and a Tibetan kid his age. He would be the youngest person ever to reach the top. So long story short, without spoiling the entire book, he reached the top. But then what? Well he climbed back down the mountain because you can't breathe at the top of Mount Everest for very long. 

I feel like I've peaked. Earlier this year, I went to Belize to complete my Gold Award for Girl Scouts. I volunteered at an orphanage. I developed an after school soccer program. I helped the orphanage begin fish farming. I learned so, so much. It was an amazing project. I know this, but I don't feel this. 

 I ask myself, where am I now? At my high school droning through my classes. But I want to aspire to rise and do great things! But I feel as though I have no aspiration left. I'm not jaded, I'm not busy, I'm just not anything- and that's the problem. 

I'll admit I've had a difficult time climbing back down, more than I did climbing up I would say. I'm trying to be patient, and to wait, but what and I  waiting for?  There's only the bottom of the mountain so that I can start climbing up again, but I'm not entirely sure that's how life is supposed to be..Climbing up and down mountains- how could someone be stretched so far? Because I feel like I left a piece of me in Belize at the top of the mountain. 

I'm at a standstill right now, I'm not climbing all the way down. I think I may go around the mountain instead.