Written Word

I find that words can be empty. They get lost after you say them or sometimes they come out wrong (maybe more than sometimes). I'm mostly referring to the spoken word, not writing.

Stories were passed along orally long before written word, but how many of those stories are still remembered in comparison with the ones that were written down? How many were forgotten? How many were transformed into new stories than in no way resembled the original?

Writing is an art that may some day become extinct in our hunger for technological advances. Typing does not and never will be able to replace writing. The brain continues spew messy thoughts as you type and as a result you cannot pay attention to the detail, the art that goes into each word, syllable that make up the meaning of a piece of writing.

Writing is art; it's tangible and it's evidence.
Love letters and letters of friendship and of new events etc. went out the window a long time ago. It makes me sad. One of my best friends and I used to send each other long letters. There's nothing quite like receiving a letter and knowing a lot of time went into the thought and preparation of it.

These days I write poems rather than letters. I have a gift for turning letters and words into a beautiful picture or story. It's a gift many people used to have. I don't show my work to people, because who has time to understand something so beautiful when we're all too busy doing 10 things at once. I don't take so much time to type anything special on here for the same reason.
Perhaps I should though...

Most recently I wrote a letter to someone I care about. I shoved it into his hand before I left and thought I was a coward for writing it rather than saying it. I'm not though. You can forget what someone says if you want to. You can't deny that they took time to write it down.

I sat down in the quiet of my home and thought about him and only him. Then I put my most vulnerable bits on paper and gave it to him. I put my heart into every piece of writing (school and work aside). I put my heart into that letter. So now it's real; my heart, my vulnerability and my connection with him.

I'll never forget. I even saved a copy for myself.
This letter is me standing and holding my own.
This is my promise to never run away from someone I care about so much ever again.
This is me facing my biggest fear - being left by someone I love.
It may be too late for things to be as they were and should be, but I can be satisfied that I did try...eventually.
Better late than never.

I'm not ashamed of the letter or anything else I have ever written.
We all deserve to have such a letter written to us.

If My Heart Was A House

You'd be home.

So I watched 2 romantic comedies/dramas with my mom tonight.

Seeing The Jane Austin Book Club again gave me a new appreciation for the books. I haven't read them all, but I really want to now and re-read the others. I like that there are 6 different stories interwoven. Their lives all connect through their book club. Of course each story involved love and relationships.

There was the young highschool French teacher who was married to a business man. Their problem? He barely paid attention to her and took her for granted. Enter: handsome, bad boy highschool student. Which one did she choose?

Then there was the oldest woman in the group who had been married 5 or 6 times. She loved being in love and was thinking about remarrying.

Then the slightly lost and insecure woman who's husband left her for a 45 year old. Her daughter moved in with her. Did she move on or decided to eat in bed and sleep?

Then there was the 40ish woman who had never been in love and wasn't exactly looking. She was the matchmaker and friend for the previous woman.

Then there was the daughter of the woman who's husband left her. She was a lesbian who liked to be wild and do things like sky diving, which was the opposite of her mother.

Last but not least: The man who liked the single, never-been-in-love woman. He had never read Jane Austen (he liked science fiction) until he met the woman who thought he'd be good for the third woman. You can tell that's complicated huh?

I liked the end, because all of the men had a chance to redeem themselves. The first couple was my favorite. She begged him to read Persuasion. They read it together and in the end their men (except for the daughter of course) became part of the book club. Men reading Jane Austen?! This is miraculous!

I want to put a lot of emphasis on writing. There was a whole scene talking about how the men in Jane Austen's books often redeemed themselves or explained themselves through writing letters or notes. I love writing letters. I love receiving letters. I notice females write more letters these days than men. Normally I would say tell a woman how you feel, rather than write. Sometimes it's nice to write too though. Writing letters can be an art after all. So go for it as long as you can talk about it as well as write about it.

My mother and I just started watching Junebug. It seems interesting. What caught my attention most was the scene where the husband of the pregnant wife (Amy Adams) tried really hard to tape a show on meercats, because those are her favorite animals. Unfortunately it didn't work, but it was the most adorable thing I've seen in awhile. It's odd things like that that mean the most. When a guy picks up on little things like that, it shows he really cares.

Speaking of animals, my favorite is a wolf. I've said this to a few times, but sometimes I have wondered if I would make a better wolf than human. I haven't thought that so much lately though. I think we all know I would be the alpha female. Human society is so much more complicated.

Barely Getting By

That's now how I feel. But recently I've been reconsidering my major. I like to help people, and I like to help athletes more than regular people, because I don't want to take their addictions home with me, their suicides, their torn apart homes...

There's no doubt that I could be at the top of my class in my mind, but I'm not. I do amazingly well and then I stop. Just stop. I'm beginning to realize I have this fear. Then I think, Really Rosalba? Who the hell has a fear of doing well? This past summer Northeastern University accepted me. When I received the email, I was so in disbelief that I started crying and immediately called my parents. I couldn't understand why they accepted me. Earlier I had withdrawn my application from BC and BU because I had decided to go to USM. Partly it was because I didn't think I'd get in, partly it was because I knew I needed something closer to home, at least for my sophomore year. I needed to recover from a bad year. I had the opportunity to go to NU though and I declined. I know that was a smart decision and I don't regret it, but I think the feeling is connected.

Now that I think about it, it's probably connected to my baby experiences. I never like doing anything if I don't know I'll succeed right away, which is ridiculous and I'm better at that now. I guess I don't know that I'll be the successful sport psychologist I want to be. I don't want to go through another 7 years of college to find out that I'm not going to be one of the best in the field. Logically I know I can be the best, but then fear isn't logical.

The other thing is that what I really want to do is write. I love writing. I could write almost all day, every day. Poems, stories, scripts, reviews, analytical papers (if I like the subject). I'm a little bit of a free bird. I like to do things in my own time, the way I want to do them. Of all people, my parents know this the most.
Ex.
Parents: Can you vacuum this week?
Me: yup
2 weeks later
Parents: have you vacuumed yet?
Me: Not yet, I'll do it tomorrow
next day
Parents: The house doesn't look vacuumed...
Me: I'll do it when I get a chance
A month later
Parents: If you don't vacuum, you can't get a dog
Me: if you don't trust me to clean up in my own time, then I'm not going to vacuum
3 days later
Me: Guess I'll vacuum now

Psychology is the opposite of do what you want, when you want. There's a schedule, there are appointments, there's writing with critical deadlines and none of it is fun. I would enjoy working with athletes and helping people makes me happy. Studying people is extremely intriguing to me, but writing is too.

The thing is, most writers also teach. I don't want to teach. I would probably make a good english teacher, but I don't want to do that.

Is it weird that I have loved my creative writing class this semester, and I have written each piece way in advance. Where as I have not been so enthusiastic about my Nature/Nurture class and definitely not my Psych 101 class. I guess I've been realizing all of this this semester.
What to do, What to do...
__________________

On a separate note, Hallie and I attended a police poetry readings. Many of them were inspiring and touching. A couple made me tear up. I knew I had to buy the calander with all of the poems in it.

On to study for a psych exam tomorrow that I don't want to study for.