physics and life.

Last night, I was driving with my friend Minnie from her house on the north side of Charlotte, North Carolina to Indian Trail, just before the South Carolina border.  We’re playing in the Southeastern Region districts and, if we win, we will be traveling to Boston for USA Hockey Nationals.  We had just carpooled from Raleigh and had a lot of long conversation about life right now.  And school.  And GMOs.  And Physics.

“I hated Electromagnetism,” said Minnie.

“Really?  Physics II?  I hated Physics I.”

“Physics I, I can understand that.  I can SEE it.  Electrons?  No.  I can’t see it.  It doesn’t work for me.”

“Huh…for me, because  I can see it, I think I know what I’m looking at and I make false assumptions.  With Physics II, I’m given the rules that I can’t see, so I work within those constraints…”

“I see,” said Minnie.  “With the stuff you can see, you transpose your experiences too easily on what you’re doing and you cloud the truth.”

“Yeah, I overanalyze it…”

Just like life.

I overanalyze life.

I’ve noticed lately I’ve become more and more confused by things that are simple.  I’ve been over-thinking everything.  I’m never sure anymore what’s a real answer or an appropriate response to an emotionally-charged situation.  I keep longing to just tell everyone to slow down and just stop overcomplicating things when they could just be so simple.  And knowing that there are simple answers just makes my complicated outlook that much more confusing and unbearable.

So life as of late has become my Physics I while my head is so occupied with Physics II, with the itty bitty pieces that are making things work but the itty bitty pieces that I also can’t manipulate, the ones that will do what they do without my help.

Sigh.

Dear Mister.

Dear Mister,

If you saw this, you would probably know who you are.

There are so many things I wanted to tell you this weekend, but I didn’t.  If I told you those things, they would sound like excuses.  If I told you how I felt, that would sound like persuasion.  No, I have to wait.  I have to wait until you ask the right questions, and then I can only hope that those answers will come as easily as they would when I withheld them previously.

Mister, there are so many things I wanted to tell you yesterday when I finished that book.  I couldn’t say them, though.  At first, I couldn’t say them because you asked and I was still a few pages away from finishing and I couldn’t possibly have gathered my thoughts by then.  Then I finished it, and you asked, but there was someone in the room and I couldn’t say the truth with him there.  And when it was all good and I was ready to tell you how, wow, a silly book has…proved me really wrong… well, you never asked.  And if I made you ask, it would seem too cunning.  I just hoped you would ask.  I really wish you would ask.  But I’m afraid to answer if you do.  I’m afraid to be that vulnerable, to have been that wrong, to say kind words and have you judge them whether deservingly or not, but I’m especially afraid of how it will change the future.  My future with those who have suppressed this kind of thing before, as well as my future relations with you, mister.  Because I don’t want to come off as ill-intentioned.

Today, mister, I had so many feelings.  So much anger.  I was so frustrated, I needed comfort, and I was still piling on hurt from yesterday and feeling sorry for myself.  There were so many things i wanted you to do, to say, to ask, to whatever…but you didn’t.  And so I now feel foolish, because I acted cruelly and you would never be so cruel but you let me be cruel anyway.  I wanted so many things, but I got nothing.  You left without saying goodbye, not in person at least.  I was hoping all week to see you after work, but I won’t have that either.  I always think, what if what if what if something goes wrong, with my road trip, with your– no, I won’t even think that.  But what if we never got to speak again?

This week I have wanted to start so many conversations.  But I think, because I know they’re the conversations that you long to hear, I am avoiding them at all costs.  Because I know they are the conversations you want, and that I want because you want, but I wanted them before you wanted them because I wanted to have what I couldn’t otherwise have.  And they never happened because I could never deceive or lie like that.  But then suddenly everything changed, like I got punched in the face in such a way that it almost felt like a caress.  And now I want to scream to you, “I understand!  I understand!  I was so wrong…I still don’t get it all, and I’m still scared, but I love this too much to let it go…” but I know you probably would rejoice to hear that, yet have skepticism that I’m doing it because I’m trying to get what I want…which is not true…but I would rather never tell you than have you believe that.

I’d rather loose everything than seem false.

Am I foolish?  I don’t know.  I’m so confused.  You’re probably the only one who could make sense of this, yet I doubt you’ll ever read this. Ever.  And so maybe an opportunity will slip by because I can’t find the courage to do this.  Maybe that’s the test.  I’ll probably fail. I usually find a way to fail…

Mister, all I want is some solid time alone with you to work this out.  Without feeling deceptive.  Without feeling confused.  But I think we also have to meet somewhere in the middle…

Love,
K.F.

Trailing Off…

photo

Ever really wanted to impress someone and then felt like you completely failed at it?  I don’t mean going over the top, dressing outside of your style, or acting like someone you’re not.  I mean being completely yourself and feeling like it’s the dullest thing you could be.

That happened to me this week.

I was so psyched to strike up some excellent, philosophical debate with someone who really seems to get me – or at least seemed to.  Ever since he’s gotten to know my friend, I feel like my grip on the situation is completely slipping.  But I can only be happy about it, if they’re happy about it.  I mean, what’s the use of going against what’s supposed to be.

Yet it was that empty feeling I couldn’t get over.  That moment like I was standing in a loud room but everyone could hear my stupidity.  I could hear deafening mockery through the silent gaps between each unanswered word I spoke.  I was going on about what was really on my mind this past week – namely because he asked about it – talking about how creation and evolution can or cannot coexist – and I kept pausing — no answer — continuing again – pause —- pause —- starting again.

He wasn’t even looking at me.  He was searching around the room.  I left my thought dangle in the air, midsentence, and trailed off.

He left it hanging.

The conversation ended without a period at the end of my last sentence.

Is This Progression?

I just got back from a long day full of work, my first dance class in a new studio, and attending Market Garden Brewery’s Brews + Prose as I always do – this time with special company.  It’s the same old routine, a few new tweaks, and yet these are the moments when I feel like my “year of discovery” hasn’t progressed me in the slightest.

I’m still in the same dull town, one year later.  I’m working a real job, but it technically doesn’t answer my calling.  I changed studios because I am not cut out to be a full-time, successful dance competitor and am settling for shows.  I went to a favorite event at a favorite place with a favorite person and felt just as ORDINARY as I did with said favorite person a year ago.  Not my intentions.

While traveling the world changed me internally, these external qualities are depressingly static.

So depressing that I can’t help but feel another wave of depression.  It’s not because it’s winter; it’s because this is life, and life strikes at inconvenient times.

I’m exhausted from a day of internal struggle.  I long for freedom and self-expression.

I also long for a second of that last pale ale because, darn, that was good.

Crushed.

Two days before Linda’s would-be birthday, I’m wearing her November necklace, I have a lot on my mind,…

and I’m delivered a crushing blow.

I never see those coming.

Then someone else lifts me up.

I’m in limbo.

I feel like my heart has been ripped out and yet being saved from my sadness only makes me hurt more.  Because I realize I have nothing figured out.  I’m so confused.  The let-down in crushing, the raising-up is crushing.

Can’t everything just settle out for me already?  I’m exhausted from trying, from trying not to care, and from trying to care again.