Time Stands Still

There are days I wish time would stand still

So I could stand in one place all day long, all eternity long

So I could breathe in the sunshine

So I could hear them playing in the yard

So I could feel the breeze blowing in across the fields

Alas, these photographs are all I have.

Let's Get Fucked Up and Live

The other day, a friend of mine sent me a song by Motion City Soundtrack called "Let's Get Fucked Up and Die." He told me this song basically summed up his existence. I listened to the song over and over and poured over the lyrics until my heart couldn't take it anymore. How could I tell him that life doesn't have to be this way? That "fucking up" doesn't mean you have to die. I was so angry and hurt for my friend that he wasn't more angry and hurt himself for living that way. I couldn't take this being the only option: to get fucked up and die. So here is my response. Watch the original song. Read my poem. You can get fucked up and live.




Let's Get Fucked Up and Live

“Let’s get fucked up and die.”
The cry of my generation.
“Let’s get fucked up and die.” Because what do we have to live for really?
We live for parents, and teachers, and tests.
We live for ACTs, and SATs, and DDs on the weekends.
We live with ADD, and ADHD, and labels that we take to heart.
I am what you define me as.
I am inadequate, unmotivated, a slave to my emotions and immaturity.

“Let’s get fucked up and die.” Because we can’t get fucked up and live.
Can we?
We are the generation of Experiencers. We can’t be persuaded until we’ve pursued.
We can be told until we’ve tried.
We are the culmination of our experiences.
And when we find ourselves failing, falling, and fucking up,
Well it’s easiest just to die.

We can’t get fucked up and live, because then we might be expected to learn from our mistakes.
To live would mean we’d have to move on. To fuck up again.
And really, how much can one person take?
How much can one person change?
“I’m about to explode.
I’m a mess, I’m a wreck.”
Will you be the one to pick up my pieces?
Like the egg on a wall, will you be there after I fall?

Or will you point and say, “It’s what we expected.”
I will not point. I will not let you lay shattered on the ground.
I will not define or label you.
I believe you can change.
I believe you can fuck up and live.
That our fuck ups are hiccups, and back-ups, and turns in the road.
But they aren’t a dead end.
You don’t have to die.

I believe you can overcome this and beat everything in the end.
You have to stop choosing the abuse, the self-hate, the parent-hate, the God-hate, the everyone in the world wants me to fail so FUCK YOU I WILL!-hate.
You can win. If you decide not to die.

True Joy in Life

“This is the true joy in life - being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.” - George Bernard Shaw

I find this an to be an interesting thought: true joy in life coming from being used up in a purpose you find meaningful. Too often, I think my generation believes happiness is found in the absence of work. Isn't that the goal of retirement? Isn't that why we kill ourselves when we are young, bemoaning the 8-hour (don't even get me started on overtime) work day and the (god-forbid) expectations and responsibilities placed upon us by our employers? In hopes that one day we can live the dream and not work? Now, I am not of the opinion that life should be all about work, that trivial things like family, rest, traveling, and fun should always take a back-burner to jobs and opportunities. I think there must be a balance to it all. But I also think that a lot of the people I have met who are my age, are genuinely disappointed that they are expected to work at their jobs. They expect the world to deliver happiness to their doorstep, without ever stepping out and getting their shoes dirty. I guess I just love the challenge to not become a "feverish selfish little clod," but to seek out my own happiness and to pursue those things that I deem mighty and purposeful. My happiness and my success are in my own hands. They can remain idle, or I can put them to work and make things happen.

I Believe in You, Tulsa

And so another season begins. All my boxes have been unpacked and suitcases stowed away. My room has been rearranged, and then re-rearranged. Things are starting to fall into place. I accepted a job at a production company in Tulsa couple of weeks ago. I must admit that although I blatantly, violently refused to even search for jobs in the state of Oklahoma at first, I have come to love my morning drives towards the downtown skyline. The commute usually affords me ample time to set the day's mood with the perfect music mix or a healthy dose of NPR. It's taken quite a bit of kicking and screaming but I have been persuaded to give Tulsa a chance. Having a job that I look forward to everyday and coworkers who are as brilliantly creative as they are kind, make it a bit easier. Not to mention having all of my friends within a 30-minute driving radius, instead of a 4-hour journey for coffee and gossip. Living here is growing on me. I like to describe Tulsa as an angsty teenager, who isn't really sure what she would like to be. She's tried sports for a while, but it never really caught on. She has a rich history of music, but sometimes I think she forgets her roots. Sometimes she's eco-friendly, sometimes she's eco-fallible (I must admit, that I happen to mimic her in this way. Ever hear of a reusable bag, Tulsa? I think as I stand in the Target line behind a woman with enough plastic bags to clog a small ocean. Damn, I left mine in my trunk! Oh well. And this is how it goes.). Tulsa is home to some pretty talented artists but like any moody teen, she does a good job of keeping her talent hidden from the world. Funny thing though, as I move back and begin to compare Tulsa to (what I consider) the awesomeness and adult-like self-confidence of Kansas City, I have started to hear other Tulsans echoing my sentiments. The potential of what Tulsa could be is here, she's just going to have to make up her mind as to what she wants to be. I believe in you, Tulsa. I think you can be something amazing. And since I'm committing to work and play and live in this city for a while, please do something.

Food Fight

The days you fight over deviled eggs, really aren't about deviled eggs.
They are about uncertainty.
They are about feeling insecure and like you are not in control.
It's about pent up hurts and bruised egos.
It most definitely is not about deviled eggs.

Indefinitely, For Now

I have been home for almost 3 weeks. Much of this blog has been dedicated to bemoaning my discovery that adult life isn't easy, and that it is especially not easy when you move away from home - from family, friends, the familiar. It's funny how after six months of wishing I could click my heels three times and be in Tulsa, I am now finding myself anxious, jittery, nervous about being back here. For the first time in at least 5 years, I find myself unloading boxes and bags with no intention of packing them up again. Instead of returning to college, or trips abroad, or commuting back to Kansas City, I have no definite plans to move anywhere. It's a strange feeling. I find myself relating to Edward Bloom, larger-than-life, bigger-than-his-small-town, adventurer in the delightful film Big Fish, who said: "The truth is, I'm just not ready to end up anywhere." After all the tears, lonely days, and long-distance phone calls, part of me became accustomed to living away. I could see myself easily settling down in Tulsa. It's a great city, lots of young professionals, job opportunities, low cost of living, plus the nearness of those I love. I'm surrounded by a lot of pro-Tulsa people who are excited about this city and its potential. Ending up here wouldn't be bad at all. But I don't know if I'm ready to end up anywhere yet. There are cities I want to visit and move to, jobs I would like to try out for a little while. Am I ready to stay in one place?

A Farewell Letter

Dear Kansas City,

Strange to think there was a time I barely knew you. In a few short months you've gone from a stranger to a place I cannot imagine not being a part of my life. Sometimes it still feel like I don't know you. Sure, I've learned your streets, I've seen your charm. You've won me over in more than one way. But there is so much of you that I have yet to discover. I realized today, that to you, I am just a girl who moved in and who is moving away. I guess I always thought it was something more. That you would ask me to stay, woo me to explore more of you. That you felt something more for me. I shouldn't be so hurt by your nonchalance. The truth is I chose not to let you in either. You are not my home. As much as I want to love you with my whole heart, I couldn't bear to let you in. So I suppose this is partly my fault. I can't expect you to feel more about me. It's her you love, the one who is from here. The one who knows you in a way you wouldn't let me know you. She will be here once I am gone. She will stay with you. Your dark I know, your city lights, your exciting and dangerous parts. But she has your mornings, your breakfasts, your long conversations. So I suppose it's partly my fault. We remain shallow friends. Sure I will come to visit. And I'm sure you will embrace me with open arms and take me through your streets once again. But I want you know that you have changed me, Kansas City. You have been here through some of my best and worst moments. I left my home for you. I have made so many mistakes with you. And now I must leave you. You will move on, you will find another girl who will move in and hopefully she will love you more and no less than I have. You may forget me, another face lost in your long memory. But I won't forget you. I am sorry I didn't let you in. I suppose it's partly my fault. It will make this departure easier, but I will always have this regret: that I didn't ask you to love me like you love the one who will stay here, that I kept you at a distance, because part of me thinks you would have been a lovely place to call home.

I will miss you and care for you always,
Chelsea