Wonder


Wonder, wonderer, wonderful, wonderment, wonderstruck.

To be curious, to look and to find or fail. But today we can’t look.

No, if you look or search or scour or hunt we will never find it, never feel it, never indulge in it.

Wonder, it’s a funny thing. We try to use it, and fain it, and hide it, and buy it.

But Wonder, Wonder is like Love. They are sisters. We cannot chase these magnificent women. No, we will never find them unless they choose to find us. Wonder and Love are illusive. They are humble and and despise praise. These sisters act on their natures, this does not warrant any commendation. In this, the sisters are alike.

But Wonder, unlike her sister, cannot cause the mind pain. Love can destroy a heart, a soul, a spirit. Love, when she extends her wrath can crumble cities and destroy lives. Wonder, cannot bare these things. Wonder has no wrath, Wonder dreams.

Love is arrogant, too good for dreams. Love makes the dreams, as she likes to say. Love can destroy thought. Love weakens and damages as well as strengthens and heals. Love can be poisonous, Wonder cannot. Love has two faces: destruction and creation, rage and glory, pain and elation.

Wonder is straight forward, she drives away negativity and fills us up with hope and imagination. Wonder, she dreams and her dreams infect minds. Wonder holds above all else thought.  Wonder makes the dreamer.

 

And, may I ask again, how did this come to be?


Of late, I have been wondering about human interaction. Honestly, most of the time, I just don’t understand it.

I’m not that strange or different from anyone else. I don’t have any disorders that would affect my capacity to understand social cues or anything of that sort. But, social interaction truly baffles me.

When it comes to the people I know well or have known for many years I do not worry about this kind of thing. They know me, they know I can be a little kooky or strange or outspoken or inappropriate. They don’t take offence, “that’s just Michele”, they’ll say.

But, when I meet new people I’m never sure what to do exactly. I’m always in fear that I’ll offend someone and a lot of the time people take what I say the wrong way. For example:

In my animal folklore class we were watching a French cartoon featuring anthropomorphized animals. The cab driver was a camel. I found this very clever and cute because he is a labour animal, specifically he carries people places. Now, my whole class stared at me in awkward silence when I said “I thought it was very clever making the camel the cab driver.” I even said “Why am I the only one who’s so excited by this? I would have been equally excited if it were a horse.” Then they understood that I wasn’t being a racist asshole. I felt very stupid. I felt that I had to make the point very clear that I was not being racist, because I’m not a racist person. I will point out cultural differences, but not with malicious intent. I focus on what people are like, not where they’re from.

Anyways, you see how people tend to misinterpret me. That’s actually the second time that class thought I was being racist, when I wasn’t. This is why I don’t understand social interaction.

Also, I do not understand how to approach someone I’m interested in romantically. I tend to over due it because I’m nervous. Attractive people, especially those that I find attractive make me nervous. This, I’m well aware, is a human response. I try to be smooth and suave and witty, but I come off as none of these things. I’m a weird person, I treat most people like I’ve known them for a long time, some people really don’t like this about me.

But how do I go from being friendly to expressing that I’m attracted to this person? To what end, may be the question on your mind. I really just want to get to know them better. If we end up having a dating-type relationship that’s fantastic! If we don’t, I’m more than happy just to call them friend and spend time with them. What some people don’t understand about me is that if you tell me we’re just friends I take you at your word. I say “okay,” and actually mean it. I do not pine, I do not harbour secret loves, I do not waste my time.

What a lot of people don’t understand is that I mean what I say. You mean a female that’s not trying to play head games? Yes, that’s what I am. I hate head games, social ones anyways. I’m always down for some witty banter, but just for fun no real feelings involved. Guys especially don’t get this about me, this is why I don’t generally date. Sorry guys, but you don’t seem to understand that when I say, “I just want to be friends,” or “I’m interested in your personality,” or “Want to grab coffee?” I really mean those exact words! No hidden agenda, no secondary or tertiary meanings, I swear to you.

It’s the same when I talk to girls I don’t know well. When I give you a compliment it’s because I think you deserve it, I’m not trying to make you feel bad or question what’s going on or whatever it is girls do with back handed compliments.

I also realize that I am not an anomaly, I know there are people out there who think this way too. They usually become my friends when we meet. But it’s not a large percentage of this population. I have this silly idea that humanity should just get along and not lie, cheat, or be horrible to one another. Alas, this is not the way the world works. I like to pretend though.

If someone would like to comment on my lovely little rant about human interaction please do! I’d love a discussion. I know that all of these things come from centuries of strange and backwards social customs, but I like to think that human beings evolve.

This rant/musing was inspired by a conversation I recently had with a new friend of mine (who will be from here known as Callisthenics ).

It’s Where I Want To Go


I was just going through my Reader, reading up on all the lovely blogs I follow, when I came across a post on a wonderful blog, writing in the water. It is titled, I knew I was a writer when…

This inspired me to tell my own story. Why did I ever decide that writing was what I wanted to do? I’ve been wracking my brain trying to pinpoint that moment where I said to myself “I want to be a writer when I grow up,” and like mapelba of writing in the water, I don’t think there was a single moment. It’s just something that’s always been there. It was just made clear when I hit adolescence.

I remember when I was five years old and I couldn’t even print properly yet. I took one of my school notebooks, the yellow paperbound ones, with the larger margins and the dotted line in the middle so you knew where to place your lower case letters and upper case letters, and I wrote a story. The funny thing is that I remember writing it, I remember it was about a chick on a farm. I remember I spelt chick as “chik.” How do I remember this?

Either way, I’ve always loved stories, telling them, reading them, and so on. I can never pass up a good story, in any medium.

Stories transport you to another place, they take you by the hand and bring you into a Neverland of infinite possibilities. As a child, this is how I ran away. I ran into the pages of books to escape whatever it was I couldn’t or didn’t want to handle. It’s a bad habit that I still partake in.

I never had a bad childhood, it was good a lot of the time. But, nothing is perfect. There were fights, punishments, tantrums, and silences. But in stories the good guys always won, the guy always got the girl, and everyone was always smiling by the end.

I remember realizing that I could make these stories too. My childhood best friend always got upset with me when I fell asleep first during our sleepovers. She had trouble sleeping, so she always asked me to tell her a story until she fell asleep. Now, these were no masterpieces of course, but they did their job. So in a sense, I’ve always been a story teller.

I still run into pages of books. I run into stories because they make me feel like a human being, if that makes any sense. They bring out a side of me that makes me realize how much of a person I am. But I’m still hiding in these pages, hiding from whatever it is I don’t want to do, see, or be.

Don’t misunderstand me, I love my life. I have a loving family, amazing friends who care about me, the ability to get a higher education, a lovely kitten, and an almost romantic life. But who wants to do the dishes when you can sore of into the skies or solve a mystery or discover the meaning of life.

I became a story teller but I’ve always been an escape artist.

Gave me the warm fuzzies


Just got home from a friendly outing to go see Warm Bodies.

Being a big fan of The Walking Dead, I thought this movie would be a fun and humorous alternative to the intense, drama-filled, edge-of-your-seat, zombies I’m used to seeing. Basically I was hoping for another Zombieland style movie.warm-bodies-poster

Unfortunately, this movie is pointed a little more at the Twihard tweens than the classic zombie lover. But I didn’t hate it, in fact I enjoyed it. It was, well the best way to describe it would be, precious.

Warm Bodies is on par with that little kid you know, that acts a little bit older than his age and tries to be funny, and when he does succeed it’s pretty great. But all you want to do to this kid is pat him on the head and tell him how adorably precious he is.

Warm Bodies explored the awkwardness of youth today through a zombie. I can related, trying to get a date in your twenties without being some suave conversationalist always has awkward moments. I think this is what makes the movie likeable, we can all relate to those awkward moments when you like someone and can’t stop staring or some such other thing.

Anyways, I’d recommend Warm Bodies for a one time look see, but I’m not going to run off and watch it over and over.