The thing about this is that sculptures like these in art history were for the male gaze. Photoshop a phone to it and suddenly she’s seen as vain and conceited. That’s why I’m 100% for selfie culture because apparently men can gawk at women but when we realize how beautiful we are we’re suddenly full of ourselves…
“You painted a naked woman because you enjoyed looking at her, put a mirror in her hand and you called the painting “Vanity,” thus morally condemning the woman whose nakedness you had depicted for you own pleasure.” ― John Berger, Ways of Seeing
11:55 pm • 15 October 2014 • 228,084 notes
I’ve written and erased what would add up to, like, three blog posts at this point. All you need to know is that I doubt that I will ever understand how to get the things that would make me happy.
It takes money to make money. Success breeds success.
I’m assuming the same thing is true about happiness… No one wants to blow up the balloons for your pity party. In order to invite happiness into your life, you need to learn how to be a happy person.
Happiness propagates happiness. Now what?
1:32 am • 5 October 2014
Real talk: I cannot be alone.
I am no stranger to living alone. I lived alone in my college apartment the summer before my senior year. When I graduated, I moved into another apartment, and there I stayed for six years.
At first, without homework or roommates to keep me busy, I had no idea what to do with myself. I spent hours cooking exotic meals for one (because even simple things take FOREVER when I do them). I killed a few months re-reading Jane Austen …and Harry Potter …and Wikipedia. I painted art that I still have not figured out how to hang.
When my friends invited me over, I would often stay the whole weekend and we would not think anything of it. It was funny, that I could be MIA for days at a time and it wouldn’t matter because I had literally zero obligations other than to show up for work on Monday. It felt weird to be at my apartment and NOT be hanging out with someone.
As is standard these days, when I started a serious romantic relationship, we would spend most of the week with each other. Maybe entire weeks without a night apart. Our relationship was all-consuming, which was obvious to anyone who wasn’t us.
After about 15 months, I began to feel like I was losing myself. There were other, much more complicated things also going on in my head, but after 18 months I asked to break up. After the initial freedom wore off (it took the grand total of one weekend), I very strongly regretted my decision.
That summer passed very awkwardly with me attempting to maintain a friendship with someone who I couldn’t help but to fall in love with a little more every week. He spent his time apart creating new music and following a career-related passion. I spent my days stuffing my face with chocolate chips while watching something stupid on the internet. After three or so very tortuous months, I confessed the results of our summer apart: I needed him in my life in ways that I could not understand but was willing to spend the rest of my days trying to figure out. Life without him was unbearable.
Miraculously, he felt the same way. We wrote off our breakup as a funny little lesson. As much as we needed each other, we needed a little time to ourselves. We were dedicated, not obsessed. We continued for 3 more years without incident. We were stronger for it. Wiser. More honest. We weren’t perfect people, but our love was unquestionably pure.
I won’t lie and say that we had a perfect relationship. It wasn’t always easy, but it was always strong. Any stone in our path was overcome as a testament to the German-quality engineering of our love. I could see forever.
Until forever very suddenly became never ever. The breakup was so abrupt and completely bullshit that I laughed about it for days afterward. It was comical that he thought his setbacks and insecurities could lay a dent in what we had built together. I decided to carry on with the comfort of knowing that we would get through this if I could just keep faith as I did years before.
Anyone who knows either of us in real life knows how completely fucked that hope was. Long story short, I am back to where I started six years ago as that girl who has no idea how to be by herself.
All that time spent in the company of friends and lovers rewrote my criteria for what makes a fulfilling life. Nowadays I cook, I clean, I try new things. But it is a very halfhearted attempt at normalcy…
The truth is that I have no idea how to be alone. I very literally do not see the point in living for me only. Learning how to function as an individual is the most difficult and painful challenge I have ever faced. I fail constantly. I fail continually. I am failing right now.
I know that my life could be incredibly worse if I lived on the other side of the world, or even the other side of town. My ex informed me that I was feeling typical high school heartache, as if four years wasn’t any more significant than four days. I had never felt so belittled in my entire life.
The pettiness of my struggle makes me feel guilty. It makes me feel ashamed. It makes me feel weak. It also makes me feel like I’m being ungrateful toward my friends and family who have listened to my same issues day after day after week after month and responded only with love and encouragement.
I AM listening, I AM trying. I am just not very good at it.
1:51 am • 15 September 2014
There will be no forgiveness for you. There will be no revenge for me. There will be no thing.
11:26 pm • 7 September 2014
I had brunch with an old friend last weekend. We caught up on our past and current lives. It was nice to not have to explain myself. It felt like slipping on an old sweatshirt… comfortable and unassuming.
I vented about how it seems like the more I want something, the less likely it feels like I will ever get it. I figured that I actually repel things by making them too important to me, but soandso saw it another way. His interpretation is that when I put something on a pedestal, I’m placing it out of my reach. The more important it is, the higher the pedestal.
So my new question is this: Can I knock something off the pedestal? Can I make the most important things less important in my life?
I know I’m steering in the wrong direction (or, more accurately, in what I assume others would tell me is the wrong direction), but it feels insincere to do anything else. I’m sick of pretending that I am or possibly could be someone else. The only way I have even a fighting chance at creating happiness is to live my life with one very impossible goal in mind. But is it impossible? If I raise myself up, maybe someday what’s on that pedestal won’t seem so out of reach.
12:50 am • 20 August 2014 • 1 note
The Sound of Settling
How long do you wait before you give up on a dream? Do you hold out forever? Do you settle for something else because it could probably be pretty okay? Is probably pretty okay remotely good enough?
I’m tired of the prospect of trying. I cannot and will not fein the slightest interest in anything other than perfection. I don’t care that I will never get what I want because I can’t buy into the idea that I could possibly want something else.
One thing I’ve never been good at is playing along. I have zero patience for things I’m not immediately interested in, be it card games, comedic movies, or friendships.
Life is so uncertain. There is no point in wasting my time with distractions and obstacles. I do not have the energy for it.
12:04 am • 12 August 2014