Smells Like Teen Spirit

September 13, 2011

When I was a teenager, I was angry. Even though I felt very special and unique at the time, I realize now that I was a less-than-impressive example of every teenager ever. Nobody understood me. I didn’t understand the world. Everybody sucked. Everything was all fucked up.

In adulthood, most of those feelings still reside within me. But now, I can’t get angry. Not the way I used to. It doesn’t manifest. I can’t just fly into a blind rage, shouting and punching and breaking things. I don’t have it in me, and I don’t know where it went.

These days, I experience a wide range of emotions– anger representing only a tiny fraction. Instead of just green and red, I operate within a whole spectrum of chartreuse and maroon feelings. I wade through this rainbow cacophony of emotions, perspectives, and events, attempting to sort out where in the void I am even standing. It’s nearly a miracle if I can use “sad” “angry” or “happy” as adjectives. Usually it all mixes into this ubiquitous tear-stained brown.

How are you feeling Kat? Real fucking confused, thank you.


A Naive Melody.

July 22, 2010

As a person, I like to fancy myself rather astute. I think most people do. We like to believe that our world is as we perceive it. That we know what is going on with those around us, and where we stand in the bigger scheme of things. We like to believe that we know the people who spend their days (and/or nights) with us. That we are being graciously presented a whole picture of the world by our friends, families, and lovers.

Some of the most powerful human emotions are stirred up when one is left feeling ignorant and foolish. When the rug of perception is pulled from right under our feet. Especially when it seems no accident.

Above and beyond the dramaturgical desire to “save face,” it is a severe ego blow to realize that you’ve been kept in the dark, given the run around, or just plain ruse’d by someone you trust. The closer this person is to us, the more complex the emotions which emerge from a major rift in communication.

There is the initial hurt of realizing your world is much different than you thought. The brain scrambles to catch up; make sense of the new information. There are feelings of inadequacy– wondering why the wool was pulled over your eyes in the first place; what you could have done to be more… more trustworthy, more anything to fit into the (apparent) bigger picture. The deeper the lapse in cohesive reality, the harder it becomes to backtrack, untangle, and make sense of it all. It is harsh, feeling like an oblivious dumbass. Plain and simple. There is no sugar coating the cold bite of reality. There are countless poems and songs about these emotions.

Our culture recognizes the revelation of one’s own foolishness as a very real phenomena.

Mama bear always told me that “A lie of omission is still a lie.” And I am the worst liar in the world. Brutally honest to a fault, even. My stories are told in their entirety and in great detail, regardless of who they are being told to. I am coming to realize that not everyone was raised with my mother’s perspective, but how can intentionally glazing over pertinent information (repeatedly) be seen as anything but purposeful deception?

I honestly just want to understand.


June 24, 2010

There is something to be said for compartmentalizing: the ability to separate emotions from logic and put things away for later. I, for one, almost completely lack this ability.

I think with my heart; I act on impulse; I demand instant answers and immediate resolutions. My emotional organization skills closely mirror those exhibited in the rest of my life– hardly short of a clusterfuck.

For the most part, bumbling through life with ones’ heart on ones’ sleeve (hat brim, front pocket, or wherever I put it) can be as much a saving grace as it is a downfall. Where it provides a welcome mat, it also provides a fault in the foundation.

It is as much an open door as it is an open wound.

Giving away the softest, most red raw part of ones’ self is risky business. Most people are careless with other’s belongings. This includes our naked thoughts, vulnerable ventricles, and uncensored souls.

Anyone who knows me in the slightest, knows that I am most likely *the* must gullible human being on the planet.  Is it a little silly to post that on the interwebz? On April Fools Day?(!) Probably. But it’s the truth.

As my blog title purports, I have profound faith in the absurd. The more unlikely something is, the higher the probability of my believing it. Why? Because, art imitates life. The universe trends from order to chaos. The fact of the matter is, most of us couldn’t even make this shit up if we tried!

Uncanny timing, bizarre encounters, cameo appearances, random explosions, long-lost-twin-brothers; I believe every plot twist. The dramatic pauses, the nefarious subtext, the fuzzy-edged flashbacks, the lone piano and entire string section. In my version, they are all there.

Is it naive to be a believer? Perhaps. But reality is what we make it, nothing more, nothing less. Some people live their whole lives waiting for a moment– a slow-mo entrance or blaze of pyrotechnic glory– the moment that quickens the pulse, shortens the breath, or lights the bulb above our heads. A-ha!

For me, life is less “Titanic,” more “Days of Our Lives.” Armed with appropriately witty dialogue and melodramatic backstories, the extraordinary characters in this saga rarely encounter the ordinary. And there are no accidents.

The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. [[AsYouLikeIt.WilliamShakespeare]]

Bonus: check out this gullible girl !