Retrouvailles/In Retrospect

I will keep brief tonight, as there is not much I wish to say concerning the end of this year; however, I feel it is important to review the year and take stock of its significance in the rendering of my life. Much will be said of this year and its various calamities–what has been said, what has been done, what has not been done–but what we have learned is of such great importance that it renders all else superfluous.

This year, along with the year 2006, constituted the two worst years of my life so far. It was filled with heartache, worry, agony, sadness, scandal, debt, blood and death. I attempted suicide twice this year, and thought about it almost constantly. My laziness and refusal to help myself only made things considerably worse over time. Relationships suffered because of my refusal to take responsibility for myself. And when a quick fix became one week of the worst work I have ever endured, it became a hard lesson to accept, something that only made things considerably worse after times. My relationship with my boyfriend came to an end in the most cold and clear way this year, making me embittered but realistic. But I will say for my own part that I thank God for this year, as it was a time of reorientation for me, a straightening in my path. Things perhaps did not pan out as I planned them to be externally speaking, but internally, I was put before the fire and the long process of purification began. Pride became humility. Fear became courage and strength. Delusion became reality, and ultimately, I changed in a way that will forever shape who I am and how I see things. If all of this is not true, then either I am a liar and a deciever, or the most insane and foolish person in the whole world.

I have learned what suffering is. I have drunk it to the dregs. It is a terrible, painful experience that belies mere emotions. It is all consuming, it soaks into the very elements of Nature. Yet, while it is horrible to behold and much more horrible to experience, it refines; it eliminates the impurities of the soul and makes one aware of the unfound senses. It takes a person out of the material, insignificant concerns of the world and places him in the presence of the Eternal. I have experienced loss. Everything that meant the world to me was taken away and I was left to determine what I was to do with myself. Now, however, I am stronger, smarter, faster, and more responsible. There is no sense in clinging to that which is in itself insignificant and useless. I have cut the ties, and there is no one to stop me.

No longer will there be times in which I feel useless, as I am determined for my own wellbeing and that of my family, to do what I can to ensure my usefulness and happiness and success in all my endeavors. I am compelled to do this; I have no choice. We either eat or do not eat, and I will not see us starve and go hungry as a result of my inability to accept essential responsibilities. I will not be deprived, similarly, of the privileges entitled to me, of which my poor self esteem is solely to blame from me taking what is rightfully mine.. Liberty, and all of its blessings, are derived from the responsibility of the person given such a privilege; there can be no irresponsibilities with freedom–freedom without reason is anarchy, and who would want that? I can only blame myself for not trying harder, which is something I am guilty of doing, especially in this case.

Binding to myself all that I know to be Sacred and True, I swear by Almighty and Ever-living God that I will do, with His gracious assistance, whatever I can to better myself, at whatever cost, to end this awful suffering and regain what is rightfully mine. No longer will I endeavor to not bind myself to the care of my selfish desires, but to the success, health, and happiness of me and my family. I will go back to college, in a place of my choosing, for my own benefit. I will ensure that these two years never happen again, and that everything I do from now on will be to that effect, so help me God.

Notations/Invective

Staying up this late causes one to think about certain circumstances that wouldn’t normally bother a person on a regular basis. I was reading about John Cage tonight, whom I love and consider myself very close to artistically and philosophically. Unfortunately there are people who, despite all of the wonderful things he helped to bring about, disregard his life and his work as trash, not being very meaningful at all. While I can’t change the opinion of the snide few who prefer the purist view of music appreciation and theory, it gives me pause to wonder why someone would hate just one person, on account of what that person makes. Still more troubling is the fact that John was such a wonderful person personally; it makes no sense to attack Cage personally, since he probably was the most humble, sincere, and amiable man among a group of individuals who strove most of their lives to separate themselves from the status quo. John did the opposite. He mingled with people in such a way, that it was easy to take his brilliance and magnanimity for granted. It serves very little purpose, therefore, to direct the anger at one’s own ignorance for not understanding something, at a person who does not deserve and did not deserve it in the first place.

My life isn’t filled with sorrow or pain, but it’s been punctuated with it. The days are good for awhile, and then worries and sadnesses creep in, followed by dark nights, when the world seems stuck and refuses to move. The thoughts are loud and continuous, one can’t get away from them. I seem to be headed that way now–I can see the darkness looming up ahead in my mind, and I am fighting to get away from it, but to no avail. I feel like my life is a nightmare that I can’t wake up from; a still, oppressive place where I’m doing the same repetitive tasks over and over, for absolutely nothing. I am terrified of the pain, but I know it’s back there, just waiting to rear its ugly head at me. All I want to do is wake up and go back to school, and finally rid myself of the bitterness that has plagued me this last year.

As for the bitterness itself it is manifestly both a good and a bad thing. One can obviously imagine the bad things that come from being embittered. But at the same time, I feel a great sense of reality, a clarity that permeates existence: in it, I can see what others cannot, laugh at what others would find serious, and take seriously what others would find trivial. At the same time, things are much more timeless now, as if they somehow came into existence almost accidentally, and that Eternity is right before me, beckoning to me. I know that it isn’t nihilism, either, as God is alive to me–but perhaps He is no longer alive in the beliefs I once had (organized religion).

There will be many many opportunities for me in the future. I will not rest, as I affirm by Almighty God, until I have done what I am called to do. I am sure to lose many friends and gain many more in the process. I have to remember what my responsibilities are, and to adhere to them fervently until I can gain what is promised for me.

Rampjaar

It’s windy outside. Outside the branches of the trees, bare by now, are being whipped around by a strong southeast wind. One can see their tops with the little foliage they have left swaying in the blue sky.

I decided I wasn’t going to take any telephone calls for today, and with good reason. I am still sick, having suffered from a bad case of indigestion caused by too much holiday food, which I am now paying for with a disagreeable demeanor and repeated trips to the bathroom. I also feel, emotionally speaking, much to bitter to talk to anyone, as even watching television arouses bitter sensations in me. I am more concerned about my bills and how I am to pay for them, unfortunately.

I do thank the Lord for His Graciousness to me, as was evidenced by this Christmas, which was, thank God, much more agreeable in temperament than the ones preceding, although a part of me still longs for cold weather and gray skies. This year has been the warmest I have ever seen. I now indeed worry whether the world is coming to an end, and whether or not we are the direct culprits, as I have reason to believe.

My family congregated yesterday to exchange gifts. I received a small CD case, which I will put to good use, being that I have CDs laying out without a case, and a shirt, and some German lemon cookies, which despite the protestations of my brother, I have enjoyed. I gave, with the help of a friend, two sets of pearls–one set golden, the other black. My mother loves black pearls, and has told me she wishes to make two pearl earrings from the strand. The strand itself is long, so I think one or two pearls taken from the strand will not ruin the whole set.

Recent perusals into the life of Johannes Vermeer has caused me to apply a Dutch term to the events of this year: I am steadily convinced that this year, like 1672, was a rampjaar, a disaster year. For not only did I see the death of my grandfather, who was as a father to me, but the many financial difficulties postulated by the death itself, as well as a continuance of the problems I have had with my brother, and once, with my mother. I do not know if perhaps this will ever change, but I feel like it needs to, and soon, for I do not know what I will do if I continue to live here. I have so many ambitions to be on my own again, and I feel like I am pressed to relieve myself of the bondage of this house. I just hope it can happen soon.

Sickening Conclusions

This afternoon Paul, who had a raucous party last night that invoked the ire of my aunt who lives next door, began a stream of invective directed towards me, particularly on account of my laziness and nonchalance. I pushed him twice before my afflicted Mother intervened. The problem lies not with me–as I do as much as I can to help out, even when I don’t have very much money at all–but with him, and his big mouth, and his various vices. Even now I can hear him whispering criticisms against me to her. Unfortunately the state of our house is not a very good one. I can’t make enough money more than I make now, and it rarely makes ends meet. Meanwhile, my brother, who fancies himself as some sort of Calonne, boasts through his debts and his irresponsibilities as says he contributes more than I do. And then, he threatens to take away things that were given to me, saying that I am a freeloader who does not deserve the things I have been given–my GameCube, my iPod and my other things–and says he will pawn off those things to get the money we need to make ends meet.

We then got in a huge fight. The police were called. After I finished picking out the shards of glass from a vase I had thrown out of my skin, the police talked to me and told me to calm down. I told them that I was prepared to face any of the consequences associated with the altercation. I tried to stay professional, which the policemen were I think impressed with.

Things are okay now, but I have no idea of what will happen next. I just want us to have a good Christmas, whether we enjoy ourselves individually or not.

Postscript

Lately I’ve been haunted by revenants of the past, which keep on coming into my mind at different parts of the day. I’ll lie in bed at night and I’ll be back at Texas Tech, feeling isolated and misunderstood again, sitting at the back of the class, trying to read from someone else’s textbook. I’ll relive things over and over again for hours on end in my mind, speaking out loud, trying years after the event in question happened to make up for some slight inconsistency in what I have said or done.

I have resolved lately to no longer speak to people who typify people on the basis of very trivial, very shallow things. I recently was astonished to discover this trait in a friend of mine whom I was on close terms with who had an aversion to people of size. “I want people who are healthy,” he said. “I want people that I know who are physically and emotionally healthy.” He implies that he does not think people who have weight problems are emotionally stable, or balanced. I only ask, are healthy-looking people any more stable than those who have weight problems? And if so, are the emotionally stable people of size somewhat less emotionally stable than those of their fitter counterparts? I’ve known people at the gyms I’ve worked out at who look perfectly fine physically but who would, given a psychiatric examination, be without hesitation deemed as suffering from a severe lack of self-esteem, to say nothing of far worse conditions. This sort of biased criticism seems to me a result of an ignorance among those who say such things and the ambivalence of those who tolerate it. I know for my own part I get plenty of looks where I work out, whether these are favorable or unfavorable, I cannot tell; but I am nonetheless content in my obliviousness to the existence of such sentiments. But to restate, I will no longer deign intercourse with those who hold their personal appearance, whatever that may be, as a standard for meaningful friendship of any kind.

Music for Occasions: Funeral Music

Below is a list of music I’ve decided to have played at my funeral. This list (and its subsequent revisions) will go into my testament, whenever it appears that I am ready for death.

Music before the service

• Franz Josef Haydn: Sonata VII: Pater! In manus tuas commendo spiritum meum, from The Seven Last Words of Our Savior on The Cross, op. 51 for string quartet
• John Cage: In a Landscape, for piano or harp
• Christopher Tye: Rachells Weepinge, from Her Majesties Musicke, for a consort of viols
• Peter Garland: The Days Run Away, for piano
• David Mahler: La Ciudad de Nuestra Señora, la Reina de Los Angeles, for piano
• Meredith Monk: Nightfall for vocal ensemble
• Johann Sebastian Bach: Komm, Sußer Tod, BWV 478

The Service

• E.J. King: Come Holy Spirit (Abbeville), for solo voice
• Olivier Messiaen: Louange á l’Immortalitité de Jésus, from Quatuor pour la fin du temps, for violin and piano
• Franz Josef Haydn: Sonata III: Mulier, ecce filius tuus, et tu, ecce mater tua! from The Seven Last Words of Our Savior on The Cross, op. 51, for string quartet
• Jeremiah Clarke: I Am the Resurrection, for vocal ensemble

The Burial

• Morton Feldman: Madame Press Died Last Week at Ninety, for chamber ensemble
• Gustav Mahler: Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen, from Fünf Rückertlieder, for vocal ensemble
• Traditional: Amazing grace! How sweet the sound (New Britain), arr. J. Galvan, for vocal ensemble
• Morton Feldman: Pp. 20-24, Measures 135-170, Bar 3, from String Quartet II, for string quartet

Music after the Service

• Gustav Mahler: Adagietto from Symphony No. 5, for orchestra
• Johann Sebastian Bach: II. Air, from Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D Major, BWV 1068, for ensemble
• Morton Feldman: V from Rothko Chapel, for viola and vibraphone
• Henry Purcell: O dive custos Auraciae domus, from Music from Her Majesty Queen Mary’s Funeral Service, for voice and continuo
• John Cage: Souvenir, for organ
• John Cage: The Wonderful Widow of Eighteen Springs
• Christoff Willibald Gluck: Dance of the Blessed Spirits, from Orfeo ed Euridice, for harp and flute

A bag of cookies

This morning Mom bought a bag of shortbread cookies with a cute little picture of Santa Claus on it. Even now as I look at it, I’m tearing up. It makes me cry so much when I look at the face of Santa Claus. He looks so loving, so full of memories and happiness, so happy to offer good cheer. I don’t know why I burst into tears every time I look at it–maybe I feel nostalgic, or maybe I feel scared and afraid of the world, and am craving the warmth and beauty of the past.

I hurt so much inside right now. I want to die. This morning the pain is unbearable, no matter how I try to evade it through distractions.  It seems no matter how much I try not to feel bad the pain comes in and washes over me, like a tide or an ocean wave. It comes in and sweeps you off the ground, and then leaves you, bereft of any sort of feeling or consciousness, and the whole process begins again.

Inasmuch as I want to celebrate the holidays this year, I feel like it seems inappropriate to. The whole world seems to be enjoying the holidays, while here it’s different–the house is still immured in sadness, as if a veil covers it.

Sometimes I’ll lie in bed and I can hear my mother weeping aloud for us. It breaks my heart to hear her weep, but I know she is scared and so am I. And at the same time, she misses my grandfather. I want to alleviate her suffering, in some way. I hear her pray and ask God forgiveness for her sins, but she has none. I don’t want her to cry anymore, but I don’t know what to do. 

I’ve ruined so much. I crave death.

Disputations

Ryan took the advantage last night of sending me, in return for an arrangement of Come Thou, Fount of Every Blessing a new workout plan, partly grafted from a new bodybuilding book he obtained recently. However I am not convinced of its effectiveness, which I guess stems from some bitterness on my part towards his generosity. This is the second or third time Ryan has intervened with new, more productive workouts, and I feel I should be more welcoming to his gestures to change my workout plan.

My mood is somewhat better, after having talked things out with my friends and hearing their advice, namely Peter and Mario, and they tell me I’m not acting/thinking logically. However now I feel like I need to do more to cultivate more positive thoughts, to feel good and to divert myself from things that make me feel bad. I’m also going to start curbing my horribly self-destructive and passive-aggressive activity, and strive to end the continuum of hurting.