True to Your Heart

After returning from the extremely rejuvenating break from the college life, my wending journey through this thing called life recommences. We sail forth from port, looking back on the friends I've left behind, passing the land of monogamy and polygamy, skirting the rock of the Sirens with beeswax stuffed into ears, and gazing upon the island that houses Azkaban. What's that ahead? I can't see anything for a few days; I know something's coming, I just can't tell what.

Squinting through the mist, I realize where we are heading, minutes before we get there: the whirlpool of truth. Questions I generally avoid thinking about, even when in the comfort of my own mind, in my own bed, late at night when no one cares what I'm doing as long as it's quiet, spring up next to me. I look around, and it doesn't seem like everyone is affected. Quite contrarily, only a few people look as uncomfortable and preoccupied as myself. Maybe the others are so close-minded they haven't thought through it, or maybe they don't see it as worth their time.

My humanities class has phrased some of these questions better than I can, and this is the springboard from which I postulate. Is dishonesty the root of moral issues, as Hobbes claimed? Not only dishonesty to others, but also to yourself? It leads to distrust of others, especially if they find out that you frequently are dishonest to yourself. And being dishonest doesn't necessarily mean lying; it also means not thinking through things you need to think about. Things you avoid thinking of, because they are too hard, or make you question other views you hold dear, ones that define who you are. It may challenge your self-perception, and if you can't even trust yourself, who can you trust? It may very well be that dishonesty is at the root of moral issues-it seems like most other issues spring from it. Sex is bad-that's a dishonest generalization. Sometimes it can be. You can generalize almost anything, which in turn is dishonest.

The question that bothered me the most, and that is still bothering me, is whether or not people are genuinely true to themselves. Can you be true to yourself if you don't know all the facts? For example, you make a choice based on what you know, but what if you didn't know all the facts? You later find out about them, and realize what you once thought was a lie. Does that mean you are true to yourself? Maybe you were when you first made your decision. What if your choice is an action, and you don't regret the action, even after you find out the truth, and you know if you had known the truth you wouldn't have done it? Is that a lie?

The reason it's been bothering me so much is because to run from the truth, to run from thinking about whatever is on your mind, because you don't want to think about it, means that you aren't being true to yourself. And me, I've been avoiding this for quite some time. Thoughts pop into my head, unbidden and unwelcome, and instead of thinking about them, or why I have them, I ignore them. I change the subject in my head. And if I can be in company, if I'm somewhere I can talk to someone, I just start talking about something random, because otherwise I have to face it. If I'm alone, at night trying to sleep, I force myself to think of the next day. I can't face the truth. My truths are too painful to examine; they hurt not only me, but others as well. They must be kept hidden. Only twice have they come out, and to two different people who don't really know those involved.

This is a place I both want to linger in, and one I want to flee, never return. For now, I must return to my ship; there seem to be no supplies in this place. Away from these thoughts being forced upon me, maybe I can think clearly and determine what course of action I want to take.

The Space Between

Sitting in my room at midnight during Spring Break, talking to two people who I haven't seen since Christmas and probably won't until May, I heave a sigh. So many people have come and gone in my life, and I'm facing the ever-dreaded parting of the ways. The distance between everyone who was so close in high school. Empty promises are made left and right, with the intention of never following through. You look at someone you used to tell your secrets to, not knowing what's going on in their life. You find out how they're doing through Facebook. Hell, you forget where they are, and when you do see them, or they take the leap of faith and try to contact you, you check their profile to make sure you get the name of the school they're at correct.

Fake smiles abound. You're not that happy to see them, you just think that's how you should feel, that's what they're expecting to see. You don't try and keep in contact with them, nor they with you. They said going to college would be like this, and I knew it to be true, I just hoped that there would be more contact between some people than on universal vacations. Some of my friends, I'm disappointed in. Others, I didn't have hope for. Always excited when we get to hang out, the great divide is felt. After catching the other up with all the goings-on in our lives, we can't really relate. Those who stayed behind are those most eager to see "the ones who got away," to see what it could have been like. The only ones who have time for us.

Sometimes, people will surprise you. Most times, it's for the worse. Once in a blue moon, it's a nice surprise. First boyfriend turned to me for advice and strength. Our friendship's grown stronger over break, and he's not even here to talk to. The ones here don't care to see how I've been; they know I'm still alive, according to my Facebook. Would they wonder if I stopped checking it, updating it, just let it sit there? The real question is, would they care? Do I even register on their radar? I make mental notes on those who I was close with, but I don't make first contact; I've done that too often in the past. I'm done with forcing people to talk to me. Unfortunately, that means that they don't care to contact me. I'm left alone this break, not seeing anyone except for those who stayed behind. Supposedly I have plans with people who have gone, but I'm not getting my hopes up that it'll happen.

Change Your Mind

At this point on my journey, I must return home. It's Spring Break, and instead of joining the hordes of people traveling to exotic places, I've become a homebody and come back here to good ol' Illinois. It's good to be home; not having to eat burgers and chicken daily is a good thing. And yet, this has turned out, already, to be one of the strangest Spring Breaks I've ever had. It's a good thing my journey's paused, otherwise I'd be backtracking.

First off: my first boyfriend and his girlfriend of almost two years broke up right before I came home. Now, he and I were really close before he got this girl, and we were friends after breaking up. But when he and she got together, he stopped telling me things, which I guess I can understand because he had her to talk to. Lately we've been talking, more when we're off to college than we did senior year, and still he wouldn't really tell me much. And then, they break up, I tell him (on Facebook, no less) that if he wants to talk I'm there, and he takes me up on it. I didn't expect him to take me up on that, at least not to the extent that he has. He's letting me in again. I think I'm the person he's going to to get through all of this. And not only for emotional support, asking me for advice (which he's taking, which is incredible, because he never asks for advice), but for single-ness support, because I can't find another word to describe that. He's asking how to be single, how to deal with her since they're single, and asking me to boost his self-confidence after everything. Advice was given, and is still being given, and self-confidence was boosted. I even suggested a trip to see him, since his Spring Break is different than mine. He was incredibly excited about this, another very odd thing. And so, I'm planning on visiting him later this week, seeing if he's actually as excited to see me as he says, and I'll continue to ponder why the change. I may just ask him when I see him.

My most recent ex, the one I've been sailing away from, the one who hates me, has been talking to me. First, we met Saturday night, and he ranted and raved, but never actually told me what he's been telling me to my face, which I found amusing. Then we had an actual conversation, but he still didn't think we could be friends just yet, because he had to think about the time we spent talking. So that wasn't too weird. But then, today, he called me and asked if I wanted to get lunch with him. Still hasn't un-blocked me on instant messenger or Facebook. I was the first person who came to mind, and he offered to drive me as well. I denied, because I have things I need to do before I go see another friend for coffee, and because it was just so weird. I'm confused.

Second boyfriend hasn't talked to me yet, but he's said he wants to get coffee. And all of this happens when I can't see my current boyfriend this week. I am confused. This is turning out to be a very odd week.

Do You Believe in Magic?

So I've successfully escaped one Siren's lair. I've boarded my ship again, and continue to sail further into the unknown. Along the way, some of my crew mates tell me things meant to be private were not kept as such. Instead of stewing, as I was wont to do, I realized that in such a confined space it would accomplish nothing except unnecessary grief. I forgive him, and we continue on in relative peace.

We see an island up ahead. What's on it, we don't know. I can't tell from here; all I see are rocks and the silhouette of what seems to be a castle. The closer we get, the colder we get, until we've all huddled under blankets. Hearty explorers never pass up a chance of discovery, so I bravely disembark the ship and climb onto shore. I finally realize what that castle is: a prison. Not just any prison, but Azkaban, the wizarding prison from the Harry Potter universe (all things Harry Potter-related belong to J.K. Rowling, I'm just a lowly obsessed fan). Soon after realizing this, we board the ship again and sail away, fortunately not running into any dementors in the process. I wonder, though, about these foul creatures.

I wonder what my worst memory would be? Since dementors make you re-live your worst memories, I don't know which mine would be. I have a feeling I know what it would be, that it would involve a certain person and a certain activity, but what if I've repressed these memories, as I feel I have? Can dementors make you relive/remember repressed memories? And if not, I don't think I have many things besides for these repressed memories that I could potentially drown in the memory. I may feel like I'd never be happy again, like some of the characters, but I don't know if there is any memory that could so strongly affect me.

In Prisoner of Azkaban, I'm at the part where Harry is about to face the boggart, and he thinks of a dementor. This got me thinking: what is my worst fear? What shape would my boggart take? I know my greatest fear is dying unloved, but how exactly would it be able to show it? I'm afraid of lots of conceptual things, not really spiders and clowns and whatnot. Seeing these probably wouldn't scare me too badly, unless a huge spider like the one they made in the movie popped up. And then, I know I could easily overcome that, because that's more gross than anything. I'm afraid of heights. How would that be conveyed? Me falling off a cliff? Any ideas as I slowly sail back into the unknown?

Dreamweaver

My journey's going along swimmingly, until my ship decides to pass by the rock of the Sirens. This is where I must recant, where my past is haunting me. I step onto shore, knowing that I must face this sooner or later. The Sirens on this rock, however, are not entrancing; they are not beautiful; they in no way resemble the female form. They are from my past, calling me back, asking me to remember, never forget, see them again. And I, willing to give people chances to redeem themselves, go along with it. In my dream, I see the future.

I am back in my high school, and it must be somewhat warm outside, because people are running around in shorts. My band teacher has let me play with the band again, because I've missed it so much and have nothing to play. In the end, I remember that I had visited the gym and left my sweater behind, and asked the teacher if I could go retrieve it. He agreed, and for some reason unknown to me at the present, I had to bring bass drum sticks along as well. He suggested I take the ones that belong to the ex, the ever-bitter ex, the Siren that called me down from my ship. I take them, because they are just laying out in the open. When I get to the gym, I grab my sweater, and realize that he has left his notebook in the gym as well. I sigh and go move it, boldly writing his name on it, and notice that he has lots of scribbles with my name on it.

I don't know exactly why I had this dream, except for that I was in communication with him earlier yesterday. Maybe it's because I'm still playing the mother role, though with a different person. Maybe that's exactly how it's going to be from now on; he'll hate me forever. He's essentially told me this already, yet still wants to talk. I do know one thing: I really miss band right now.