1. 16:23 14th Apr 2014

    Notes: 29

    image: Download

    I only kind of write like a five year old..

    I only kind of write like a five year old..

     
  2. Sometimes a song will come on, or the breeze will pick up a scent with a history—one that I may or may not recognize—and bring it blowing past me. Or the weather will feel right at the same time the sky looks right, right for each other. Or any combination of these and or other things and, well, whatever does it, it gives me this clean energy; fresh, you know, like after it rains maybe. And it makes me want to go, it moves me, like I’m chasing it–or, more like I’m on a chase with it, I think. But I don’t want to lose it.

    We call it nostalgia really only when we can pinpoint the senses that are being activated and also the connection to the past. But nostalgia has this weird semi-negative connotation, and this feeling isn’t that–this feeling is a faceless internal effervescence, and I hate that we have words that put feelings in a box.

    Because words aren’t feelings. Words are a human creation, and emotions are a human experience. Words can convey those experiences but sometimes it takes more than one or two or five. Words are a thing that you have to work with sometimes, you have to go back and forth and slowly move closer and closer toward an understanding with somebody else. When you do this you get closer to something, “the truth”, than what one simple sentence leaves you with. I mean, “I love you” and “I’m happy” and “I’m sad”, those are boxes that people do different things with. Sometimes some dig, and fill in the cracks, and sometimes some find it easier–or they just don’t care–and they take the generic, the box, and move on. And other sayings or words are almost always boxed up, and it leads to problems between people, and also with us trying to understand ourselves.

    We often think our emotions should fit into these boxes because we’ve been raised to think that they’re the same thing, raised to think that the boxes are our emotions and then that there’s something wrong when the boxes don’t all fit together. It’s easier to give a kid or anybody a drug than to trade words back and forth, face to face–that’s too uncomfortable, especially now–too gritty and dirty. We all mostly live in, and most of everybody’s relationships consist of, these boxes. They’re easier to deal with, but you miss things, things that get glossed over or fall through the cracks of these stacks of boxes. They’re just a solid enough foundation—it’s not a house of cards—but more like a house with a leaky roof. And it rains a lot more in some peoples lives than in others, and different houses have holes in different parts of the roof, so sometimes its leaking over the dinner table or the bed, and sometimes it might be over the shower or the toilet. We need to start opening more boxes. Filling in the cracks. We need to start talking to each other.

    — but hey you’re alright (via garetjhanson)
     
  3. 16:17

    Notes: 65

    Reblogged from garetjhanson

    Tags: my writingbut hey you're alright

    Sometimes a song will come on, or the breeze will pick up a scent with a history—one that I may or may not recognize—and bring it blowing past me. Or the weather will feel right at the same time the sky looks right, right for each other. Or any combination of these and or other things and, well, whatever does it, it gives me this clean energy; fresh, you know, like after it rains maybe. And it makes me want to go, it moves me, like I’m chasing it–or, more like I’m on a chase with it, I think. But I don’t want to lose it.

    We call it nostalgia really only when we can pinpoint the senses that are being activated and also the connection to the past. But nostalgia has this weird semi-negative connotation, and this feeling isn’t that–this feeling is a faceless internal effervescence, and I hate that we have words that put feelings in a box.

    Because words aren’t feelings. Words are a human creation, and emotions are a human experience. Words can convey those experiences but sometimes it takes more than one or two or five. Words are a thing that you have to work with sometimes, you have to go back and forth and slowly move closer and closer toward an understanding with somebody else. When you do this you get closer to something, “the truth”, than what one simple sentence leaves you with. I mean, “I love you” and “I’m happy” and “I’m sad”, those are boxes that people do different things with. Sometimes some dig, and fill in the cracks, and sometimes some find it easier–or they just don’t care–and they take the generic, the box, and move on. And other sayings or words are almost always boxed up, and it leads to problems between people, and also with us trying to understand ourselves.

    We often think our emotions should fit into these boxes because we’ve been raised to think that they’re the same thing, raised to think that the boxes are our emotions and then that there’s something wrong when the boxes don’t all fit together. It’s easier to give a kid or anybody a drug than to trade words back and forth, face to face–that’s too uncomfortable, especially now–too gritty and dirty. We all mostly live in, and most of everybody’s relationships consist of, these boxes. They’re easier to deal with, but you miss things, things that get glossed over or fall through the cracks of these stacks of boxes. They’re just a solid enough foundation—it’s not a house of cards—but more like a house with a leaky roof. And it rains a lot more in some peoples lives than in others, and different houses have holes in different parts of the roof, so sometimes its leaking over the dinner table or the bed, and sometimes it might be over the shower or the toilet. We need to start opening more boxes. Filling in the cracks. We need to start talking to each other.

    — But Hey You’re Alright (via garetjhanson)
     
  4. love and spirals

    I was sitting on our couch. its comfortably worn-in dark red was just close enough to the color of spilled wine. we were drinking again. 

    "You know those spirals you draw as a kid where you start with a big almost-circle the size of the page, and then you come right inside your original point and keep as close to the outside line as you can, committing to and then drawing yourself into nothingness–but trying to put off reaching it for as long as possible by tightly, aggressively staying with the outside wall?

    "It’s angry. that’s how my mind feels when I really get worked up–it’s like I can’t get out of it once I make that first dive in. at that point the only thing worse than thinking these angry things, or these bad thoughts, over and over, is the inescapable void that I’m left with if I stop short of that impossibly final point. so I fill the void, following my own previous direction, until I exhaust myself and there’s no room left for the aggression. but until then it’s out of control in that it’s entirely controlled: it can’t change direction, the anger can’t be interrupted but by itself. Love does this the most to people.”

    "Spiral out of control?

    "Right. On Any Scale. I mean in high school I once called somebody fifteen straight times. like voicemail every time–call again. maybe it was twenty. I couldn’t stop until I ran out. then I just sat there and stared at the wall until I fell asleep. it’s like a tantrum. the fire fuels the fire. 

    "and then we grow up and we learn how to prevent our tantrums. we learn self-control. so then a lot of the fire-starters are non-starters, but love still lights us up from time to time. and a lot of the time it’s because we shouldn’t have been there in the first place, because it was the wrong place. to be looking for love. But we’re in it by then! 

    "You’ve got to learn about yourself so that you can learn about why you want love, so that you can learn about who and how you want to love. Instead a lot of people love in place of learning about themselves, because it’s dark and scary and maybe looks like some fruitless spiral. But it’s not.”

    "So you’re in love?"

    "I mean–"

    "And not the way you should be?"

    "Well. Fuck. No… It’s me, I think. It isn’t the love. This is the right love. This is the love that fills that void. Stops you short because it doesn’t leave you any room for anything else–but you have to let it in. I have to let it in."

     
  5. 17:28 19th Mar 2014

    Notes: 24

    image: Download

    Mi amigo puede dibujar

    Mi amigo puede dibujar

     
  6. I literally still have dreams about you… but when I try to put into words the feelings that take over when I wake up from them I sound crazy. Because it’s like we’re back. Like everything is all right. For a few moments–it’s like a drug. A really good drug, and coming down hurts. And then it feels like losing a heavyweight belt, but the punches don’t stop…

    Meanwhile, you’re having breakfast. Or you’re asleep, with somebody; somebody who doesn’t disappear when you open your eyes. Somebody who wakes up to a dream and not from one. Somebody who I hope knows what I didn’t, because I wouldn’t want anybody else to feel like this. Somebody who could have been me.

    — a letter I know I won’t send (via garetjhanson)
     
  7. 18:14

    Notes: 14

    Tags: areyouafraidofthesubway

    image: Download

    had a few faces lookin at me today #areyouafraidofthesubway

    had a few faces lookin at me today #areyouafraidofthesubway

     
  8. 12:05

    Notes: 118

    Reblogged from garetjhanson

    I literally still have dreams about you… but when I try to put into words the feelings that take over when I wake up from them I sound crazy. Because it’s like we’re back. Like everything is all right. For a few moments–it’s like a drug. A really good drug, and coming down hurts. And then it feels like losing a heavyweight belt, but the punches don’t stop…

    Meanwhile, you’re having breakfast. Or you’re asleep, with somebody; somebody who doesn’t disappear when you open your eyes. Somebody who wakes up to a dream and not from one. Somebody who I hope knows what I didn’t, because I wouldn’t want anybody else to feel like this. Somebody who could have been me.

    — a letter I know I won’t send (via garetjhanson)
     
  9. 19:53 17th Mar 2014

    Notes: 17

    image: Download

     
  10. Don’t Worry

    Do you remember that night after your grandma died when we were talking about how all things end. We said we thought that loss is okay because it means you had something, something important, and we talked about how you will always carry that with you. It’s not as if you lose what you had; it’s all still there, it’s just not still happening. And it’s silly to try and make anything last forever because nothing does. You just have to appreciate that it’s happening, whatever it is, and live in it, and be a part of it. It’s the most conducive way to drawing as much as possible out of any thing. Whatever you value in a thing, its value is increased when you embrace it, and enjoy it as it happens to you. Worry breeds resentment for what we all know is coming, and it expedites the process. It’s cancerous, and it’s tumors interrupt voyages and sink ships. Learn, and love.

    Remember? You were so smart. You told me to choose love, choose to love, every time. And you were right.