Bring it arrrouund towwn

(pics of trip home)

As the first post in a while, things have been a little crazy. School has finally gotten out, and I'm at least feeling much better, much more manageable. The usual summer annoyance is that now I am not keeping to the schedule I've laid out for myself. I haven't been lax, so to speak, but just not exactly doing what it says. Lately, this last month I've been interrupting myself in order to have conversations with others or making sure that I can be around to listen to someone rather than finish a book or rereading homestuck.

I have had some great moments that need remembering. Visiting home and having everyone actually show up to the CheeseCake Factory was amazing. I really didn't expect everyone to show up like they did. Getting to see everyone around the Midwest was just great. Very grounding to get back and touch everything again. Have my dog remind me I'm a jerk who never calls, and sit down with my grandparents. Driving up the long hours in order to see Alex again was a good idea. Hiking around and eating food was rather enjoyable.

It has been along time since I've been able to see people, and unfortunately it means that I have to filter the people I see based on time and managability. It's not something that I'm looking forward to in the coming years when people only get farther, and farther apart. So, to make a point. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't be everywhere at once and I'm sorry that I can't see most of the people I want to.

Spaces

Yet another research paper, yet another 3am post. I am not enjoying the pattern in these schedules.

I feel like I need to start drawing again. I need to return to my world of creation and shapes. Once, I was nearly to the edge. I was close. I was close enough that I could pear over the precipice and see the downward slope toward the grove of goals. They were right there.

Every now and then I need to remember that I am stretched thin. I am so used, so at ease to be thinking in multiple times, multiple places, and maneuver through the world on the fly. It is how I am. It is me. It is what I do.
But I am tired.

I am really, really tired.

I am in too many places. I am in too many times. I am not here. I am not when. I am not what.

There is no chance for a full revival. Only stim packs and the random chanced upon reminder. A fleeting shimmer. A green leaf amongst a sea of yellow.
Too many traps. Too many dwellings. Too many don't matter. Not enough matter.
Stop. Move. Flow. Settle. Be. Expand, but return home. Travel forth, but hold a spoonful of oil. Drink from the sea and wrap yourself in the lonely, fickle wind. Give it a friend for the moment. Show it softness in order to remember your own softness and grip. Breathe. Find your motion. Find your cycle.
Find your place.
Retract. Center. Find security, find safety. Find a hill to roll down. Find a tree to climb. Let its slow hands reach up and lift you in its concerned skyward embrace.
Make yellow dance against a backdrop of seafoam orbs and lavender oranges.
Touch colors, smell the sights, taste the music.
Remember.



**reboot.



grow.

Pressures

It is 2 am, I have a research paper due in the afternoon, and I am writing on my blag.
Well, cheerio then.

I do not believe that people are as attuned to pressures and weight as they might think they are. On the whole, I would actually say that most people do not actually understand what it means to do something "softly". Lately, I have been reading several books on personality assessment through nonverbal language, microexpressions, nonverbal communication, and linguistic metamessages (also, I highly recommend reading Deborah Tannings works).

Am I suggesting that people do not know how to control their own bodies, and thus do not know what it means to move "softly"? No. I would say that most people are extremely aware of their bodies. From the uncoordinated gamer to the dexterous harp player, I would guess everyone is aware of what their bodies are doing. I would not say, however, that they know why they are moving the way they are, what their flow is, what they are communicating, or to what degree they are participating in any of these actions. People can be beautiful sports players, and refined cooks and still not have an idea as to what "softness", or more specifically, "pressure" is.

Softness in movement is different from softness of physical description. I feel vaguely hypocritical even writing this because I know I have only personally experienced the tip of this ice berg. I do not feel as if I entirely understand enough to communicate about it, but I have to say I know enough that I can feel it, and I can notice it. In the most basic form, softness is something not forceful, hard, ridged, or inflexible. It is tender, accepting, conforming, and unimposing. I want to focus on unimposing for a moment.

unimposing, to me, goes hand in hand with a form of intimate respect. There is an underlying respect to softness. It has its own form to hold, but it is still respectful of the form and pressures that are being placed upon it. A small agreement of identities if you will. It is this relationship that I'm not sure too many people understand, and then are able to act upon. From my own experience (and earlier discussion on a seemingly universal "flow" in movements and activities), here are some examples of underlying respect, and careers I would expect people would have to intimate with this idea in order to survive.
-Dancing
-Drawing
-Slack rope
-Climbing
-Soccer
-Cooking
-Any musical instrument, or faculty
-Any martial arts
-To an extent, writing and story telling
-Architecture
-Making friends
-Keeping your friends
-Keeping your friends healthy

This semester, I have been rubbing a lot of backs. This is not where the thought came from, but it certainly seems to be the most frequent example where I can practice this thought. Touch is a gradient. In order for a touch to be soft, there must be a hardness, a stiffness with which to contrast it with. Otherwise, if you rub someone's back, you will be unable to adapt to the necessary tension points, and your friend will be disappointed. Softness is also a gradient. There is a light softness, and hard softness. It is still accepting, but it doesn't quite bend so easily to the identity of the incoming other. A dance of distances, a dance of pressures.

The reason I feel people do not practice this is because the overwhelming amount of motions I see are heavy. They are weighty, almost as if someone is swinging a heavy rock around on a string. There is fluidity because of the constant motion of the swinging rock, but there is still a heavy cadence. It thuds, it rolls awkwardly down a stairs, it stutters.

Watching someone who moves both softly, and smoothly is something that's near awe inspiring to me. There is an amazing amount of respect actively being shown between both the state of mind, and the body's capabilities, and the nature of the environment it is working it.

There Is A Miscommunication There

This will be written when I have time to dedicate to it. The bare bones of this post will focus on the miscommunication people have with me when I say something a kin to "I should have been able to do such-and-such. That would have prevented this" or "Its my fault, because I didn't try hard enough here, and because I was not enough, this negative thing resulted". They tend to immediately yell/whine at me for taking an impossible stance in which the situation is outside of my control and that I am now suffering irresponsibly and out of proportion to my actual possible involvement in the situation.

I will continue to write something about how the whole point that I even make such a statement is because there WAS a point in which had I actually been acting in ways that I feel are within my ability and potential, I should have been able to positively affect the situation. This would have been accomplished by actually being the creature, the 'Sam' that I hold my standard self perception to. The best possible Sam should have been able to make a difference. I am not, and have never been, and will probably never be Best Possible Sam. I know this, and I know when I don't have control over things. However, that doesn't excuse me as a bystandard observer to simply watch something happen. I should be able to say clutch words. I should be able to pick others up. I should be able to have relavent skills for future endeavors and adventures.

I should be prepared, and these situations show that I am still lacking in one respect or another from Best Possible Sam.

This ties into why I feel compelled to learn as much as I possibly can. I know nothing. I can do just a few things well, or at least ok. I am not terribly proficient at practically anything. I could at least try to be competent. I could at least try to be not dumb.

Working Title

So, I will add more to this later on today, but I am getting a little confused by this.

Actually, no. Realized anything I could ever verbalize into words is best put in rage face form. If anything, this is more proof that i should try to make an effort to get something meaningful thrown down on this webzone.

Working Half-Awake

The last 24-36 hours have been a little interesting. Reminding me again that everything is different, but nothing has changed. Getting back into the flow of working despite being tripped a little was a little difficult but there are still railings that I can sieze should gravity or parasitic growth. I've managed to keep my eyes around me on the vast tapestries around me in order to remind me and remember how to move and flow.

Somehow Past Sam always knows what to say. If only someday Future Sam could drop a line.

Close Enough

It is just a little off, but still about 16 hours away from Friday afternoon. This week has been moving unbelievably slow. I've been working pretty hard I think to make everything work out the way that it needs to. I've prepared a net for myself this time, and have some pretty good hand holds if I need them. I feel tingly and a pretty sleepy. Just want to get this over. Could have maybe even finished it today, but that wasn't the plan. The hour is drawing near and I will be able to embrace it. This very post is even another way for me to be doing something and still move time along.

I feel so fussy.

Needs to be tomorrow already.

Apart from this, things are proceeding well. I will be able to safely navigate this semester if this first week is any sort of a standard. I have been level, I have been moving. I have been given pieces that could be my future, and this weekend I will take steps to grasp them. I will continue to work on and finish drawing and painting some of the portraits for the grandmas.
Forgive me Wisconsin, I know I am not as good a son as I could be. Instead I merely give you the bare minimum. I am trying hard to change this so that I might finally be rid of it and actually earn the praise you've bestowed on me.
Thanks everyone.
I will not make you liars.

Rest assured, I don't break promises.

I Got This

I have recently returned to Whitman after a long and necessary break. When I left, I was near convinced that lives were crumbling, options disappearing because of my own lack of tact, as well as being more personally affected by others problems than I had even initially intended. Work had taken over most of my day, and when it was time to unwind and sleep, all that came around was reminders of could-have-beens, and the worst possible interpretations of events under the guise of "at least then I'll be prepared when they happen".

Three times became one, and strings from the past pulled all too strongly in order for future projections to be lived in sickening realism and accuracy. It reminded me strongly of how I felt when I was kind of grabbing for things three years ago. It would have been a lot harder to get through the last week without my Whitman Family. So thank you Mari, thank you Diana, thank you Daniel, and thank you Spencer for being such a great roommate.

That being said, also thank you my Wisconsin brothers for the winter break. I am not sure when we will all be assembled again, but I was glad I could see everyone at least once. I am sorry I did not get to have a farm party mom. When I get back we will dance in the only way does with a puppy, pizza, and too much slippery hardwood floor.

I was happy to have seen Grandma and know that she is doing a little better. I am a little shaken by how well I was able to accurately guess how the scene was presented to me. It was good to be able to talk to her and know that she might be out by spring. I look forward to spending time with you the next summer I am home.

The last semester was, looking back, filled with awkward gaps and runs of motion. While things really didn't move all that differently from freshmen year, I just feel as if something... wasn't quite there. In many ways it was much better and much healthier, but I feel as if my momentum was not always very constant. This semester, this moment in time I am reminded that if things are to be done, I must be the one to place the foundation stone by stone. I am back with my friends, and some of the people I trust the most if some unforeseeable thing happens to spring. I am not breathing quite as quickly, and I know that this equilibrium is not going to be disrupted. I am reminded of a Bill Nye the Science Guy episode on solids and liquids.

I am a liquid, happy and unafraid to fill unfamiliar and empty containers.

There's too much to do, but there is exactly enough time to do it.

Starting...now.

Recontinued Remember pt. 4

Three times at once.

This is a topic that I am not sure I can speak for many people on either thorough observation, or guessing at possible perspectives. For my own introspective curiosity then, I will try to describe what I mean by my perception of time and how hard it is sometimes to remain in one specific period for too long.
When I think about time, It comes to me as this foggy path with a orange glowing strand of string running back as far as I can see, and as far infront of me into the fog as I can tell. When I am looking to understand a past event, guess my present condition, or guess a future action, all three are extremely persistant in vying for my attention. It is, from my observations of others, easier for me than others to become trapped in the past, or removed into the future. I have become pretty good at removing myself from the present and have had numerous times where I feel as if my central core of thought and mind is not located within my body, but rather from a third person view, seeing myself as a character moving through some motions while I am held to watch in an objective attention. What this person does doesn't mean anything to me. I wonder how he will rectify this, or solve that. Whether the ease to which I can slip into this mode is a side effect of practicing effective roleplaying, or if this has actually helped me take other's points of view I cannot say. It is a little difficult to explain how one thinks of three separate times simultaneously, but that is, I think, the best word for it. I relive my mistakes in the same instant that I move to make sure they do not repeat themselves, as well as try my best to realistically imagine how my life might be better or worse because of my actions or words. It is bizarre, because it happens so fast, and sometimes both fast, and for a long time. Almost like a..semi controlled panic attack that jumps planes. What I think is important to note is that I do not just remember or imagine the past and future, but I live them. Touch, smell, tone, lighting, objects, emotions, how hard my hand is clenched, where I am located in my house, in the state, in the world, what the weather is like, how others around me have spoken, or will speak, how full I am, what background noises am I hearing. This is what I mean. This is why it is hard for me to stay in one place because at times I am living three lives at once, and despite their overlapping, it is still chaotic.

Looking into the fog, I can roughly see where the line of light has disappeared, but from there, the strand becomes less obvious and splits into a multitude of paths. Looking back I can see the rainbow of decisions and course alterations.
"It is today already, but it is not Tomorrow yet."
-Me

Or, perhaps an even deeper third layer that is the same as the first.

I am working on getting a good photo assemblage for this post. Looking back over the last year has been interesting. All the things that happen even when I swear this last semester had very few things that actually had import to them. My camera and posts disagree slightly on this point. I often have trouble remembering that spring and the end of fall consist of the "last" year. Most notably I found another base and a better understanding of what my own personal motivations are. I still have a pretty good idea what I'm shooting for, and I know I can achieve what I'm trying to do. Just need to do it now. I would agree with last years conclusion that the house is doing a better job with communicating and not being a jerk to one another.

This last semester has been more of a struggle than it had to be in nearly every category. Particularly at the beginning and end when I wasn't sure if it was going to be my last semester at Whitman, or if people at home were doing ok, or if I was going to be able to get back home to see people. Perhaps most importantly I found someone to talk to and keep me together when I felt as if I would like nothing more than to squish myself into a corner and come apart. Having gotten through the worst time I've had in recent years now in the past, I can finally try and stand up again and keep moving.

This year I've tried and meddled that only spread too thin and lacked the agression of learning correctly or the traditions of thought and conduct. I understand I'll never quite live up to the standards I've set for myself, but I can certainly get close.

Remember the oil in the spoon, but take the time to pick your head up and see.

Destroy mountains, create wonders, draw slowly, and rest peacefully.
Close your eyes and feel. Carefully stretch your consciousness; wander and understand.

feel strongly,





live beautifully.
-Past Sam

Begin: a Year of Placement