New poem :)

Untitled

Sitting

and waiting

for tall-dark-

and-handsome,

curled in my corner

like a comma

in a run-on sentence

armchair,

punctuated.

By the lamplight

I watch painted 

butterflies flit over

the reflection

of a caffeinated atmosphere.

People-watching

people give glances

everywhere.

Next to them, away

from me, everywhere

there are eyes

dotted and

across teas 

words fly through steaming

white cups.

Sitting, and waiting,

and watching

the doors,

those transitional fillers

of the story 

I observe.

What does the story mean?

A group of couched

laptops ask, and before

the answer 

is divulged,

a new character enters

the discussion.

The chapter

ends, ushered out

by a dark and beautiful

man, who

takes me through

the end.

On the Inadequacies of Language to Emotion, and the Complexities of Emotion

Love and anger are two passions in the same thread of emotion. They exist in the same world, as siblings or bickering lovers. Opposites attract and all that. Love and anger are more related than love and lust, despite the fact that love and lust get confused so much. Lust is a want, a desire. It can be manifestly expressed, physically and verbally. "I want you" can be embellished in so many ways but still boils down to the same basic meaning. Love and anger extend to the point of speechlessness; "more than words can describe" is a cliche for a reason. Language is not complex or clear enough to accurately describe what needs describing. It reminds me of Derrida's statement that language is unstable; words only meanings are the images that we prescribe to them. The word 'tree' means nothing without the image of a tree, but the tree doesn't cease to exist if the word disappears. In the case of love and anger, we have no concrete image with which to associate with the words. Emotions are such an abstract notion; each person feels them differently, at different levels and capacities. 

We can't expect to find one word to describe such complexities, but what if we could? I had a conversation about this the other with a wonderful group of young men. We discussed so much, but one thing that I was intrigued by was an idea that one day we may share a worldwide language. If that happens, what language do we choose? A language like French has the capacity to describe emotion much better than English, which, despite all of its complexities, is a simply descriptive language that focuses on comparative details that can't always necessarily express what needs to be expressed. Will a language evolve to the communicative needs of the user? Or are some things beyond what language has the capability to express? I think that part of why emotion is so powerful is because it is beyond language. It is variable in people, and complex in a way that can't always be described. It is so meaningful that even something as strong as language can't fully express it. As soon as language is stronger than the emotions is describes, the emotion is no longer that meaningful enigma it once was. It is not so powerful as to be beyond expression, undervaluing emotion because it can now be so easily said.

Poetry Time!

So I thought I'd put up a couple poems I've written... I then realized how incredibly depressing my poetry is!! If it isn't depressing, I find it incredibly boring. But then I find that the only time I write poetry is when I'm upset! Seriously, I think I might be secretly emo... Anywhoo, here's a few poems anyways. I'll end with a happier one so I don't depress people into not reading this anymore :)
Also, sorry they're so spread out, the formatting on this thing is kicking my butt!!

Maturity                                                                                                      Swimming Lessons

What is it                                                                                              Your eyes sail away

that makes me so easy                                                                           across an ocean

to lose?                                                                                                        of Solitude.

So simple                                                                                                   Your mouth has ceased

to just let go.                                                                                          to voice the tides

He told me                                                                                                 that kept you here.

I’d never lose him.                                                                                       Distance

He lied.                                                                                                        is all I feel,

~                                                                                                               in crashing waves

Apparently it’s better                                                                               from your very core.

for him.                                                                                                          If you don't return

Nothing left                                                                                                   I'll lose you

but me,                                                                                                         forever.

my split heart.                                                                                          Pursuit is impossible

Years and years                                                                                         for I cannot swim.

I’ve known him.

His heart

so sweet

professed

early love.

I believed

his blue eyes.

I

never could

have guessed

he lied.

~

I’m trying so hard

not to care.

He feels

I never cared.

He voiced words

like knives.

Our friendship hangs

like ribbons,

shredded.

He promised

he’d go

nowhere.

He lied.

8-Count

I

love too

much the thrill

of twirling and

stepping across the

dance floor. I crave the strong

connection in his arms that

would never fail or let me drop.

~

The

sway of

sexy swing

moves with his hand,

firm on my back and

shoulder. Step-step-hold and

dipping me lower, deeper

than anyone sharing the floor.

~

Blues.

He leads.

I follow,

my face inches

from his, like sex in

heels on hardwood floors. We

gravitate to the edge as

he catches my breath, impassioned.

Well there ya go, I hope you enjoyed it :)

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room...

Explanation: Something that every writer should do is keep a journal... sometimes I feel like my best writing is when I just write about anything that comes to mind. Some of this may not make sense, some of it may be dark, but just go with it. I'll try to keep posting these along with other, more planned entries to mix things up. But here ya go :)

9/30/2011   2:19am

Slow dancing in a burning room. John Mayer really has something there, because it seems to be that same feeling I find myself returning to. The feeling that I’m counting down to something, surrounding by something that’s happening but I have no control, just waiting for it to consume me so I can know it. “We’re going down and you know that we’re doomed”  Not the happiest sentiment, but I relate to it more than I care for.

I wish I could put down in words the way blues guitar resonates, how it pierces to my inner core without me realizing. It sneaks up on me, and fills me with an unexplained beautiful melancholy that spurs nostalgia and analysis in reminiscence. Sometimes it makes me smile; happy mistakes and circumstance dance in my mind and I look back on times when the smile on my face seemed to catch from one day to the other. Other times I’m somber; the friends I’ve lost and bridges that have caught fire despite the best efforts to prevent the worst. I regret nothing, I know this for sure. Everything that has happened in my life is now a part of the person I am. Each bad decision led to better ones down the road, ones I may not have made without that previous knowledge.

Why is it that a song can stir feelings in me that I shouldn’t feel, or have no outlet for? A romantic song makes me feel romantic when I’m alone in my room; an angry song stirs my senses on a day that has been filled with friends and laughter. It’s worse when I sing along. It’s as if I experience the artist’s feelings and inspirations by expressing it myself. I suppose that’s every artist’s goal though, and in that sense maybe I have no control over it. But what if I did? What if I could control those feelings? If I could sing those songs without any attachment? I suppose then they wouldn’t sound the same though. I’ve been told that part of the best part of watching me perform is how much I connect with what I’m performing, how into it I get.

 I feel like I’m missing something, and that music is the key to finding it. Like maybe if I listen to the song enough, I’ll find the secret that will a hole that I‘m not sure is there. Do other people feel like this? Like they’re supposed to be doing more or different? Maybe I just need to sing more. It goes away when I sing, and when I dance. Music, and the expression of it, seems to be the key.

2:37am

My Tattoo

So, I'm working on getting my first tattoo (fair warning, this will not be an incredibly deep or thought-provoking post). I really want it now, but I want it to be perfect!!
It's an incredibly meaningful tattoo to me; I'm working towards being a librarian and have always loved books and music more than anything. The tattoo I want is a small and simple looking black-ink book on the inside of my heel. Simple, but parallel lines are difficult in tattoos and I want it to be absolutely perfect. Shortly after I get this one, I have plans to get another one... I want a quote about my other love, music, in script somewhere on my body, possibly my back or side. The quote is "Music is a moral law. It gives Soul to the universe, Wings to the mind, Flight to the imagination, and Charm and Gaiety to life and to everything" by Plato. It sums up everything I feel about music but have never been able to put into words. I want it in black ink with dark blue highlight.
Alot of people are opposed to tattoos, which is unfortunate. It will be on my body forever, but I would never even entertain the idea if that wasn't something I could accept. Tattoos have the capability to express things that are words can't with a simple image. No one would wonder why I would choose to be a librarian, because my passion is tattooed in permanence on my ankle. These are things I know will never change, my love for music and books. It's only fitting that they should follow me to the death.

Thinking

I don't think that people think about the impact they have on other people's lives. Every action towards another person could have a huge or a tiny impact but we never really think about what those could be. The other day, I had a customer come in ordering drinks for her son's 8th birthday, her son who was with her. She ordered 5 drinks, 4 went in a carrier, and the little boy got to carry his own drink; it was just how the numbers worked out. Before I gave him his drink, I took my sharpie and wrote "Happy Birthday" along with some balloons on his cup. The look on his face as he read the side of his smoothie stayed with me through the entire day, and I can't help but think that 20 years from now, he's going to look back to his 8th birthday and remember the lady who wrote on the side of his smoothie cup in happiness. We always remember those little things, the random little actions that happen throughout the day but I don't think we realize that other people have them to, and that other people could have them about us (good or bad). A seemingly insignificant phrase could mean nothing to one person, but said to another could bring back unbearable memories.
I watched some snippets of a documentary on 'real-life' super heroes today on TV. Not like firemen or police officers. Legitimate people in masks, capes and spandex. These people do what they think are extraordinary acts of kindness when in reality, these are things that everyone should do, as decent human beings. Being a good person isn't super, it doesn't take that much effort, and doesn't require a mask! You should be proud to do things like volunteer to help the homeless, not let a business owner harass a customer, not let someone get mugged. It is not too much to ask people to be good human beings, but these superheroes make it seem like you have to hide who you are and make a huge deal out of it. It is sad that we live in a world where being a decent human being makes you extraordinary or 'something special'. Humanity should be a normal thing. Instead, it should be cruelty or evilness that makes someone stand out, because it is so off kilter from the rest of the world. You never know what affect a smile, a greeting, or a help across a parking lot can have. Think about it next time you say "I want..." instead "Can I please have..."
Think about it the next time you see someone straining to reach for something but rush by because you don't want to deal with it.
Think about it all the time, everyday, with every action you make. Think about the impact you could be having on someone else's life. Let your smiles reach your eyes. Make eye contact and say Hi. Let someone be nice to you, especially if it's their job. You're just making their life harder by being a pain in the ass. Be nice to someone, even if they're being a pain in the ass. You're just sinking to their level by reacting in the same way. If nothing else, be a good person for you, not for other people. It will make you more successful and make you a healthier and happier person. I do both. When the people around me are happy, I tend to be happier. When I am good and full of goodwill and good thoughts, I feel good. My stomach isn't upset, my head doesn't hurt, and I smile. Alot. Smiling makes everything better. I truly believe that simple eye contact and smiles are the key to two people connecting in an amazing way. It isn't facts about each other, it isn't physical chemistry. It is an intent to do good and to be interested and listen. It is as simple as thinking about the potential impact you may have on someone else's life, and thinking about the fact that if you don't do things in a way that make you a good person to you, you may regret it for the rest of your life.
Think about other people's feelings. It will make you more conscious of your own.

Numero Uno

So, here goes. I decided to start my own blog. I started one with my ex but we never kept it up so I think I need to do one on my own. I figure I have thoughts, maybe if I wrote them down someone else might get amusement or use of them. Besides that, I don't always have a way to just talk about the things I like to talk about it. It's like talking to someone that almost never talks back. That being said, I do like comments and feel free to message me with questions, comments, and whatever else you want. I do like it when someone talks back. It's more like a conversation that way.
Here is the basic information you need to know about me: Despite the male-like name, I am a woman. I grew up on Whidbey Island, and graduated Coupeville High Class of 2010. I now attend Western Washington University. I like to read, write, dance, sing, work out, and generally do what makes me feel happy and good as a person. I also like to give advice and talk to people.
Here is the more extensive information you get to know about me: ~Someday, I will be a librarian. Someday after that, I will own my own bookstore, which will be called "The Knotty Librarian" ~I can East Coast swing, Lindy Hop, Blues, Salsa, Cha Cha, Bachata, Argentine Tango, and do general choreo etc. Simply said, I like to dance, and do so alot. ~I compete in Scottish Heavyweight Athletics. And before you ask, yes I do all the events. And yes, I do throw the telephone pole, or I try my hardest to at least. ~I've played the clarinet for over 7 years. ~ I also sing. And pretty damn well, I have been told.
I love puppies (even when they're grown up, they're still 'puppies)... emotional music that I can relate to... beautiful handwriting... pink when it's that dusty antique color... the plunging feeling you get in your stomach when you go downhill... the same feeling you get when you get the kiss you've been waiting for... giving advice but not always following it... paperback romances, or as I call them, smut... I love men in kilts, rainy days, and the smell of basil. I have a weakness for high heels, good makeup and flirting... for the beginning of a romance, and genuine smiles from genuine people.
I also tend to call people 'hun'. Don't be offended, it's meant as an endearment. Hopefully I will write in this blog frequently enough to get people to read it. If not, at least my thoughts are going somewhere... Happy reading :) Love, Jordan