"Our Song"

I like this business of couples having songs, though probably only because I'm constantly listening to a song and extrapolating to my own life. I thus draw connections where they are probably relatively invalid. Whatever. I've never been terribly concerned with music meaning the same thing to me that it did to the artist that made it. It means anything they wanted to them and can mean anything I want to. Anyway, this means that, when in a relationship, I choose and re-choose  what our "song" is with ridiculous frequency, usually without telling the other 50 percent of the equation what's going on. (I have since revised to a more this-is-my-song-for-us-right-now attitude in a futile attempt to respect their right to have a say in the song selection.) So I phase through these songs, in the past three months I've gone through three really solid ones, and some other fleeting ideas. But I realized today that in the context of every love interest I've ever had, I've considered the relevance of "Swing Life Away" by Rise Against. It's always been a different line or stanza that's appealed to me, but somehow it's a song I keep coming back to.

"Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse."

"Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words."

"If love is a labor, I'll slave till the end."

"I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand."

Never Walk Away Angry

Let me preface this discussion with the disclaimer that I have indeed regretted fights before. I have regretted things I said to people I cared about and wished I could take them back. I have apologized.

Far to often I hear the cliché, never walk away angry. And I always thought it was kind of stupid. Most often, I've heard it in the context of loosing a loved one (or potentially losing them) and having the last words you exchanged be ones of anger. It was ridiculous to me that any person I loved that much wouldn't know it. I'm under the impression that even when I yell at my mom because I'm being a bitchy teenager she still knows I love her, but I base that assumption off the personal knowledge that when I'm being yelled at I still know I am loved.

But everything's changing. A few days ago I walked away angry, well, ok, frustrated. And was miserable the second that person was out of sight, not because I'm not confident that they know I love them, I am, but because I have no desire to be mad at them, because there is nothing more important that I love them, no argument outweighs that.

So, new policy: never walk away angry. 

The Socratic Method

Questions are a tricky business. According to Merriam Webster: an act or instance of asking. My English professor today, in a discussion of how to enter an academic conversation, encouraged us to not answer a question without first asking one. It took me about two seconds to realize this is how I should be living my entire life, not just my academic conversation entering (like that'll ever happen). We discussed the concept of argumentation as conversation as opposed to the popular notion of argumentation as battle. I've lost one of my closest friends because she thought all arguments were a battle to be won by the best tactics and weaponry, and for far to long I played the game. Now that I'm "out in the world," the connections I make with people are often far more ephemeral and somehow far more dear to me and I'm far more interested in what those people can say to me than what I could possibly communicate to them. My closest friend right now I spend a ridiculous amount of time just silently listening to, since I know everything he says is precious to me. Challenge: always ask a question before you answer one. Try to understand the perspective of the inquirer and what they're really getting at. Be quiet. Receive. 

Things a Weekend in Fredericksburg Taught Me

I like to sleep more than is natural, or probably healthy.
I lied ever time I said I had found the most confortable bed in the world.
I have absolutely zero ability to relate to a 13-year-old boy.
I wish I was more of a hipster.
I can totally write a ten-page paper in 24 hours.
My phone is crazy.
Bashing professors with other professors is exactly as satisfying as one might expect.
I should never be a commuter.

But a really lovely weekend.

Ho Hey

So I found this new song a week or two ago. I'm madly madly in love with musicality of it, but it also happens to have some pretty intense romantic lyrics. I sent a link to my boyfriend, because I legitimately thought he' enjoy the music. To his credit, he hasn't mentioned the potentially more committed than we are just yet (I'll love you till the end of forever-esque). I find myself listening to and totally serious and that scares the crap out of me. On the other hand this is the best another human being has ever been to me, and I hope that that is as reciprocal as I want to make sure it is.

Ho, hey, I belong with you, you belong with me, you're me sweetheart.

It's a good song, check it out. 

I Won't Cross These Streets Until You Hold My Hand

When I was in sixth grade I quit my position as head safety patrol guard at my school. I had been on safety patrol for two years, getting younger students successfully to their parents in the carpool lane outside the building. I was a damn good safety patrol for a 10-year-old and thus, got "promoted" to head safety patrol. Childhood me was incredibly pleased with the recognition for my good performance in that organization and I worked hard at it. I created a schedule, acquired an equipment closet, and got us new "uniforms" (aka: reflective belts). However, people quickly began to not show up when I scheduled the, fail to wear their uniforms, be rude to parents, and a variety of other issues. At that moment, I learned I can never be anyone's boss. I got chastised whenever some other lowly patrol would break the rules, even if I had not done anything, often without me having any knowledge of the incident at all. So, I quit. I didn't want to be in charge of other people, especially people that were being less mature and responsible than I thought I was being. I have successfully avoided management positions since then (except editor of The TJ Chronicle, but then I had a teacher to enforce my rulings). Now, I am in the position, not of being responsible for 24 other individuals, per se, but having 24 other individuals relying on me. I took this position and didn't really expect to get texts at two in the morning about a paper due the next day (largely because I never used my predecessor in the same way). I'm not saying I don't love my job. It is rewarding and I get to go on tons of adventures I never would otherwise (and it pays well), but I do come across moments I did not expect. I don't want to hold their hands any more than I wanted to help patrols guide people across the streets. 

Hide and Go Seek

One of my best friends has this theory that the people you are supposed to find the universe will give you many opportunities to get to. He developed this plan when he was dating a girl he could have met through church or a summer camp or their parents working together. I have long been a casual believer in this small-world theory and on more than one occasion I've found people who became important in my life that I could have found in other places if I'd been looking. I didn't really subscribe to a notion that the only people who become important in my life are people I could have come across in a variety of ways, particularly not now that I've left my insular childhood spending 17 years in the same town. Now? Not so sure. In pure, crazy, poor decision-making, college student style, I'm taking a road trip this weekend to visit a high school friend, who happens to be friends at college with one of my college friend's high school friends. Happens to be one of the most important people in my life right now. Huh, maybe the universe knows more about what's going on than me, fancy that.