Babbles

Untitled Part 1

If you knew me, you would say that I can't tune into anything other than music when it's on.  If you knew me, you would know that I would rather suffer from a horrible meal than to complain to the restaurant.  If you knew me, you would know that my favorite color isn't really yellow, and that my favorite Avenger is not really Captain America.  If you knew me, you would know that I can't open up to people without thinking about it, but that I will tell a stranger everything that has happened to me in the blink of an eye.  If you knew me, you would know I'm scared of the dark.  If you knew me, you would know that I just can't pick favorites.  

It's not that music flows through my blood and I breathe it in or whatever. That's just impossible, and I don't like those metaphors that aren't true to who anyone is.  The truth is, anyone can live without music.  Has it saved lives? Of course. I mean, how can anything with such raw emotion only serve as entertainment? It shapes lives like a sculptor of imaginations.  But all the same, there is no single person that would cease to breathe upon becoming deaf from lack of music.  Hell, even Beethoven found a way around that.  Not like that's an original observation, but hey, it's a valid one nonetheless. In any given situation, if I know the words to a song that comes on, it completely drowns out the rest of the world, no matter how faint the song is.  At a party, wedding, graduation, if it has words or even a strong theme, I can't tune into life.  Or perhaps the music represents life itself.  Duh, it does.  Of course it does.  That was cliche. I'm sorry readers.  It wasn't even relevant.  Maybe I should delete that.  Oh well, I have typed too much to bother at this point.  

I hate complaining to restaurants.  I despise it.  More than Conner Girard, and that's saying something.  I feel like I would hurt the cook's feelings, and cause the waiter unnecessary hassle.  That's pretty much it.  I would rather not eat than go through the ordeal and embarrassment of asking for a new meal or for this one to be free.  The food goes to waste no matter what one does.  It puts you on the spot, and labels you as the complaining customer.  You are branded as the customer that needs to be appeased, and I hate being treated like I could blow up any minute when I'm nowhere near blowing up.  I'm an extremely picky eater, and I hate putting a huge spotlight saying NO MATTER WHAT YOU FEED ME, I WILL HATE IT AND MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO WALK ON EGGSHELLS BECAUSE YOU DON'T THINK I EAT ANYWAYS.  Yes, I know that might be overkill.  I know that people don't really care that much.  I know I am overthinking it.  But I can't help it.  I just can't eat food I don't like, and I just can't handle when other people have to consciously think about my eating habits.  It's not even that bad, I just don't like most foods.  It's not like I never eat.  I love eating. It may not be healthy food all the time, but it's food.  If I eat healthy food, people automatically judge me because I'm a natural twig.  If I eat unhealthily, people get jealous and all passive-aggressive on me.  If I don't eat, they judge me for being vain.  I just can't win.  I just want to go about my own meals without being criticized.  Is that really too much to ask? 

So now the yellow and Captain America.  Yeah, it's a weird confession, I know.  So Jenna was a girl I knew in 9th grade (14 years old) who committed suicide.  I pretty much did it.  Many people say that "You have to stop blaming yourself, it's not your fault." At least until I tell them what happened.But I'm not going into that now.  The point is, it deeply affected my life, I had depression for two years, I am getting over it and have almost completely defeated it at 2.5 years through.  She was in marching band with me, and we all were given yellow roses to represent her.  I dried mine out, posted it on Facebook, the undying love bit that I'm sure many other people have also done.  I had a yellow room at that time because I find it best for a softer, but still bright room.  And then yellow became my favorite for her.  It represented all of the eulogies she embodies.  The truth is, I don't really have any particular favorite color. Yes yellow is the most pleasing to my eye, but that's just because I'm tired of all the other colors.  Anyways, at Jenna's funeral, one of her old friends was talking about how Captain America was her favorite Avenger because he held Jenna's virtues in the same regard.  Teamwork, love, organization, self-sacrifice, passion.  These are most of things that this friend said in her speech.  I can't remember them all.  The speech really stuck out to me, and I tried to adopt Jenna's philosophy and I tried to adopt her philosophy through the Avengers.  But I was lying to myself.  Thor is my favorite Avenger because I love the scriptwriters.  The language he uses just is fantastic.  I love the olde-fashioned ways of his speech.  It just makes me happy.

Well, I guess that's a sample of the telling strangers personal information.  I would say that to anybody that came across my path.  And it's not like I'm trying to "share my story" and "encourage others" or whatever do-gooders like to do with their free time.  I just like deep conversations.  I am an emotional conversation junkie. I love it.  But I can't open up to people on a day-to-day basis.  Not even to myself.  It is so hard for me to even talk about my day or week or my impressions.  I'm working on it, but it takes so much effort. 

I'm scared of walking alone in the dark, not the actual dark.  I thought that it might have been getting too wordy in that first paragraph, so I just toned it down to something much simpler.  I am terrified of walking alone at night.  Terrified.  I won't do it unless it would inconvenience others to drive me home.  I was...well...I never want to say it because it makes others uncomfortable, and because I don't know what to call it.  But the main jist of it is that I was sexually aware at a young age, and that I could figure out why you don't go into a truck with "FREE CANDY" on the side.  I have had nightmares about being kidnapped by big, strong men from the age of 8. And those nightmares became my biggest fear.  I am afraid of being kidnapped and raped.  I have had daydreams, and they freak me out to no end.  Harassment, like a cat call, automatically becomes "Holy shit I need to call someone so that they won't attack me."

I just can't pick favorites.  That's like asking what shape is the best.  I can't pick a favorite movie, favorite food, favorite class subject, favorite song, favorite book, favorite parent, favorite direction.  It's nearly impossible.   Usually I just pick something to answer questions, but I really just love everything so much that I can't decide.  

I think this is enough for today.  I am just so tired.  Well, until next time!