Fire Escape

Sometimes I think too much. But sometimes that thought has some legitimacy that should be shared.

I agonize over words. Which to use, when to use them. Interpretation is so diverse that original meaning means little in the end. Still, I love words. I love long, rambling words that seem precocious in this day and age. Words you may need a dictionary to understand and even then may not fully comprehend. I also like short words. Slang, new to the age. Adjectives should be adventurous and seldom repeated, though I'm guilty of favoring certain ones. I enjoy curse words. I like how we give power to certain words that are nothing more than a collection of letters and syllables, that, without that power we bestow upon them, would fall apart and rearrange to something harmless. Stringing words together can be both terrifying and enlightening, which is why I prefer to write them down rather than speak.

I love to ramble. Tangents are beautiful things; you can learn so much from them.

But people like concise statements nowadays. Concise can be nice (look at that rhyme!) and I do appreciate conciseness on places like Twitter. But I'm a rambler, which is why my posts never stop. And why I must take my ramblings to a blog. True, I could keep them in my head, but I like to share my thoughts, or at least keep a record of them. Memories are fleeting, sad but true. Try as you might, you'll never remember something exactly as it was for an extended period of time. We change our memories, embellish them. But I like having an original copy, so to speak, for posterity's sake.

I post a lot of information, pictures, and so forth online, which people may find narcissistic. While there's an element of that, I just sometimes want my life to be a somewhat open book, so the judgments people make are based in truth. I also love to learn about other people. So much can be gathered from people's writing, posts, pictures. I love it! Everyone is so different and intriguing. Everyone's life is beautiful in some way, even if it's a beautiful mess.

Often I speak in cliches. That's become a negative thing to do, but cliches can be fun to abuse. They're nonsense yet everyone understands! It's as though we all have a secret language, like those we made up as kids, a connection.

I miss being a child. Sometimes I still feel like one, but sometimes I feel centuries old. It's an odd feeling. It makes me want to believe in reincarnation. Yet I don't know if that need to believe is rooted in my desire to be important, magical and unique, or something more legitimate.

Being human bores me. I haven't given up on being something more, but part of me feels bad for condemning humanity as boring and unimportant. In reality humans are so much more than I give them credit for being, but few reach the potential they have, making humanity disappointing as a whole. A pessimistic view, yes, but that's how I see it. My childhood kind of messed me up in that respect. Messed me up in a good way, but still skewed my view of the world. I was raised playing with fairies and doing mathematics. An odd combination. That's why I'm equally right and left brained, which is nice, but everything conflicts in my mind.

I was born in a blizzard, brought a bracelet by the Ice Queen, causing me to live up to the nickname Ice Princess. I ventured through tunnels of snow in Connecticut, conversing with the ice giants, wind and wolves. In the Spring I played with the fairies in the front yard, adventured in the woods, hovered out of the attic contemplating what it would be like to fall and fly. Summer left me watching snails, hatching dragon eggs, visiting the Blue Fairy across the lake and picked up cicada exoskeletons. In Autumn I concocted potions, planted foam cows, and interacted with the ghosts that hung around my house. Year-round I was a cat and would play both CATS tapes simultaneously, dancing and howling along. Essentially, I never "outgrew" these things as they were, and still are, my reality.

Needless to say, normality is impossible. And really it seems pointless to try to blend into a mundane world when mine is so much more interesting. Yet the mathematical, logical portion of my brain forces me to make an attempt. Human interaction and understanding is necessary in life. Hermits rarely go far, after all.

Hm. This has taken an almost depressing turn. It's not meant to be sad, but tangents reveal multiple sides to a situation.

I am also a hypocrite. But there is little need to document this as I display hypocrisy daily.

I'm not sure what my original point was, but I've come to enjoy relating to people. I love having friends, but I'm still far too wary of relationships since normalcy escapes me. I worry what others think, that they may not stay if they come to know me truly. But in my hesitancy I lose the chance to become closer. It's frustrating when you realize a fault but don't know how to fix it. Slowly but surely I'm learning.

My personality is full of highs and lows. I either love something or hate it. I'm either in the best of moods or in the deepest depression. Moderation could be good, but you miss a lot without those highs and lows. Just an observation.

Well, this post has accomplished little, save for allowing me to ramble. But what else did you expect from a girl whose blog is entitled "Nonsensical Ramblings of a Would-Be Fairy"?