unfinished thoughts
this one's a little different.
you would not believe the amount of drafts i have in my dashboard right now. i sit down, eager to write something based on one poetic line i thought of while i was at the grocery store or at the cafe i performed in when i was in ghost quartet (i’ve frequented there quite a bit since being back in california) but after i write it, only a paragraph or two come to mind and then the piece is abandoned—either to finish in a couple of days, weeks, months, or never at all. whilst i am trying to fight through an intense writer’s block (god, i wish i were like murakami, who claims to never have writer’s block because he just doesn’t write unless he has something to write), here are some of these thoughts that i am beyond happy, but a bit terrified to share with you all:
i kind of feel like nothing has happened to me.
that is an absurd thing of me to say, though, as many of my friends have listened in awe as i’ve told them a plethora of bizarre in the best (and worst) way possible anecdotes about the things that have happened and currently happen to me. they see my life as this epic romantic comedy film with many ups and downs and twists, one that always keeps the viewer on their toes. some even attribute me to be this great writer who has experienced so much and always has something to write about.
yet, i fail to see my life this way. i am constantly ransacking for things to write about and more often than not i find myself staring at my screen or a piece of paper in front of me with so much, yet nothing at all to say. it is all brewed in my heart but i cannot translate it to the page a lot of the time. i can merely give glimpses of my heart and mind and soul and it aches me knowing that this is the case.
if i ever were to write and star in a film about my life, i’d call it the sunshine within us. i imagine wes anderson and tim burton would somehow be able to come together and bring my ideas from script to screen, and perhaps even richard linklater and nora ephron would collaborate on the script with me. perhaps nora would share some of rob reiner’s wisdom to guide me, even.
the very first frame would begin with the brightest ray of sunshine one has ever seen peeking through dark green oak trees—it would start out of focus but ever so slowly come into focus as todd rundgren’s “izzat love?” plays. the song continues to play as the camera cuts to a young girl laying on the floor with her best friend, pointing up at the ceiling—the two’s faint chatter can be heard. they laugh so hard that we know their stomachs will ache later. when the song ends with the scratch of the record, she is laying in the same spot on the floor in darkness with a serious expression on her face.
i put on red lipstick to feel better.
literally, that is all that draft says.
i often find myself asking my own self, why do i so badly yearn to be anywhere but where i am? after years spent, wishing that i could be here and now i finally am. so then why do i crave to be in vermont at hampden college with camilla, charles, richard, henry, francis, and god forbid, bunny? why would i want that life? a life where knowledge is used for power and personal gain, for leverage, even murder. i don’t really want that life at all. but why does it seem so glamorous, so enticing? it draws me in with its cold, yet open arms. it’s so cold but there’s a million fireplaces awaiting me. and unlimited knowledge. and oh, how i would feel so undeniably cool and intelligent in that group, studying ancient greek and other “dead” texts; reviving them. who wouldn’t want that life?
back when i was extremely depressed in quarantine (weren’t we all? but for me, there was a bit of an added layer that i’m still trying to figure out.) i used to think i was so deep and philosophical for saying that humans will never be satisfied—we will always want for more. when we get what we want, immediately we will want something else. to a degree i still think parts of this are true, but it is deeper than this.
i do believe humans can be satisfied. i just believe it is part of human nature to always want something, but not because you are not already satisfied with what you have. you can be satisfied and still want things. that’s okay. that’s human, dammit!
but it still freaks me out a bit that i could possibly daydream about being submerged in donna tartt’s fictional universe. the entire point of the secret history, to me, is to make you not want that life. to see the true issues with it played out right before your eyes. to scare you out of even thinking you ever wanted it. so then, why does it radiate home?
donna tartt is a genius. she knows exactly what she is doing when she spins beautiful worlds between her fingers and onto pieces of paper in which were made from trees—bringing even more life to life. this within itself is a beautiful sort of notion, a revival of the trees we cut to have paper to bind together our books.
but this article isn’t about miss donna, unfortunately. (but with that being said—sometime in the future!) this is about human desire. this is about
well, i guess i never figured out what else this one’s about.
well, my lovely readers—i hope that one day you will read these words again and these thoughts will be finished. you will beam upon realizing that you have read these words before when i write them in a separate story, the story they were meant to belong in, the finished version. or, perhaps, are some thoughts meant to be unfinished? i can think of some things that can be meant to be unfinished. friendships. romances. business partnerships. mentorships. familial bonds, even. the book you’ve tried to re-read multiple times but could never get through (for me, the assassin game by kirsty mckay). shows with over 10 seasons (though, i do admit i did finish supernatural…). that assignment that you cannot bring yourself to do because you’re going through hell and will not bring your gpa down at all. that one piece of clothing you started altering (aka cutting it unevenly with scissors) in hopes to make it look better (let’s face it—you’re never gonna put it on yourself again). that conversation you had with someone two years ago that stopped because someone didn’t respond (in some cases, i take this back. i cannot begin to explain the amount of times i’ve gotten close with friends was when we resumed talking after years like no time at all had passed). that journal entry that caused you to never write in your journal again (it’s time to get a new journal and that’s okay!). the letter you never sent (you never sent it for a reason. maybe you got so far as to seal and address it but just never got around to putting stamps on it). that cup (or cone) of ice cream that you got after dinner (it just didn’t taste as wonderful as it did initially.). an album (it’s okay to only enjoy a select amount of songs).
perhaps the thoughts i have shared with you all here will be the last you see of them, perhaps it won’t, but i cannot tell you for certain. i hope that’s okay. i hope you can forgive me and still appreciate what i have to say even if i haven’t spun my words as intricately as i usually do. perhaps even this piece of writing is unfinished. i suppose we’ll never know, will we?
want a space to share your unfinished thoughts? look no further: submit YOUR unfinished thoughts here!