Possible.

For once in my life, I am frustrated by possibilities. Usually, possibilities comfort people. They like wondering if they have something to look forward to, like thinking that something might happen, like keeping the hope alive. I, on the other hand, have no patience for possibilities. I want things to happen or not to happen, simple as that. Now, I'm not promoting a black&white way of living, because by this point we should all know that I would rather life within the shades of gray in between. But shades of gray are not about possibilities. Shades of gray are about nuances, small things, moments. But possibilities? They're just about waiting, wasting time, wondering about things generally because someone doesn't have the self-assurance to just give you a straight answer or say something to you themselves. I am completely and entirely fed up with "possible".

And now I'm convinced that this entire post was possibly all misunderstood. Ha. Possibly.

Al Fin Del Mundo

You know, I wrote that Kate Chopin quote on my birthday. And I found out the day after my birthday, the day after I decided to use the quote, that Kate Chopin and I share the same birthday. If that's not fate-filled, I don't know what is.

It was at the end of the world. Misty and foggy and surrounded by water on three sides. It was full of my best friends and good champagne, pretty wooden floors and strong coffee. It's a place that's in the middle of nowhere in Norway, a country that is already in the middle of nowhere itself. And so far out there, dancing salsa and reggaeton and merengue until way too early in the morning, then waking up way too early to sit around in our sweatpants and drink coffee and listen to Jack Johnson....all the way out there, with all those strange things in such a strange place, all of that juxtaposition....and I was more happy than I've been in a long time. And no, not just because of the champagne. Because I was dancing with people I adore, because I was toasting my birthday with my best friends, because my Spanish has finally reached a conversational level, because it was debauchery at its finest.

Beautiful presents (I finally have a Spanish-language copy of "Love in the Times of Cholera"), beautiful food, beautiful wine, beautiful clothes, beautiful scenery, beautiful friends. I am content.

Another year.

"I never dreamed of her making such a mess of things and working out her own damnation as she did. If I had had the slightest intimation of such a thing I would have excluded her from the company. But, when I found out what she was up to, the play was half over and it was then too late." -Kate Chopin

Stars.

I am again annoyed by the lack of respect for other's histories. This time generally because it seems as though everyone thinks that their "problems" are so much greater than everyone else's. They are not. And if you think that they are, then you don't know other people well enough. And this advice applies to me as well, and therefore I will not pain you with a list of all the things that were frustrating today. Because they are small, they are only events, they are not moments of living.

It's days like today that make me realize how incredibly lucky I am to be at this exact moment in my life with these exact people. Today was horrible and stressful and ominously prophetic of what I can expect for the next month. And another me, a younger me, would have gone and crawled in bed and cried. But this me, the now me, ended up okay. Ended up strangely happy, even. That is due mostly to the people I have, the people I care about. The people who make the endless meetings enjoyable, the people who make me smile with an offhand comment at lunch, the people that bake me cakes when I finish my political movement in Extended Essay form (those last people would be my roommates and they deserve specific naming because of the cake and because they are them).

I am too stressed to have a birthday. My mom told me to suck it up and deal with it, because apparently "adults" are always too stressed to have birthdays. Or they just stop caring about them. But I feel like birthdays demand special thought, special attention to meaning and detail. They require nostalgia and evaluations of years past. Birthdays involve philosophy. And I am just far too stressed to do justice to all of that.

Closure. I've realized what it is this time. It's walking away mid-sentence, closing the door, and not actually opening it again to finish the sentence. It's leaving in the middle but forcing it to be the end. It's not pretty, it's not romantic, it's not novel-worthy. But it is still closure.

On that note, I'll end with song lyrics. They're story-like and good enough to justify reproducing a large piece of them. They feel very central, very important. Enjoy them. Great love in realistic form is always an important thing.

"Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start. You promised me everything, you promised me thick and thin. Now you just say oh, Romeo, yeah I used to have a scene with him. Juliet, when we made love, you used to cry. I said I love you like the stars above, I love you til I die. And there's a place for us, you know the movie song. When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet? I can't do the talk like the talk on the T.V. And I can't do a love song like the way it's meant to be. I can't do everything, but I'd do anything for you. I can't do anything except be in love with you. And all I do is miss you and the way we used to be. And all I do is keep the beat and the bad company. And all I do is kiss you through the bars of Orion. Juliet, I'd do the stars with you any time."

Los Amantes del Circulo Polar

Three things.

First. Loose ends. I'm done with them. They do nothing but entangle me, so I'm done with holding on to them just because I've always been too scared of the possibility of actually losing them. Losing things is okay. I don't feel like I always have to win anymore. It doesn't always have to all make sense. I don't always have to like it. But I can always be myself, always act according to the things I believe in most, always be graceful and dignified. In that way, I don't really lose anything at all.

Second. An apology. A deep, sincere, apology. Now, don't you all go thinking that I don't actually have the maturity and go and apologize in person. I already have. I'm just thinking of this apology a lot. What it means, to go and put yourself out there, vulnerable and emotionally naked, and admit that you are sorry. Well, I am. And I have done that. And it's terrible, because I've been the person on the receiving end of this. I've been left empty. I know what it is to fall apart, I know what it is to watch everything you want slip away no matter what you do. I know it. I feel it. No one deserves it, it is unfair, and it breaks my heart that that is the way things are. I want it to be different. But. It's not.

Third. I spoke to someone tonight. Just a random, probably meaningless conversation. But it made me realize how incredibly lucky I am. Because I know I have something that is full of meaning. Something that I don't have to be sad about, something I don't have to dramatize, something I don't have to question. I have my rock. Every walk, every cigarette, every brush of hands, every stolen kiss, every drink shared, every dinner made, every dance enjoyed, every smile, every phone call, every thought....the depth of the reality of these things hit me tonight. The simple fact that they are real is powerful. And because of that, I am so lucky. Thank you.

"Se que estas lejos de aqui, sonriendo sin reir, escribiendo algo para mi."

Que si, que si.

We spent the day watching America's Next Top Model. Then, we were all inspired to dress up like slutty debutantes and crash the Saturday party. We got crazy to reggaeton, salsa, 80s music, and especially "Noche de Sexo", which is in a category all its own. Danced some more at the afterparty, where we also got bit by Salvatore (don't ask). Became properly sweaty before finally venturing back to the room, only after the last song was played at around 2:00 in the morning. Everyone piled into my corner and sat around gossiping while eating dried fruit and cheese (the only things we had). And now, all of my roommates are passed out in their own beds (amazingly). Except for Andres, who fell asleep on our couch in about two seconds.

All in all, I'd say that this is perfection.

Closure.

An interesting topic. Do we always need it? Can life continue unrestrained if we don't find it, in every situation? Even if I'm not bothered by something, not haunted by it, not consciously aware of it, the coming of closure always provides a most welcome relief. It's like having a weight lifted off of you that you had become so accustomed to that you forgot you were even carrying it. So while you carry this weight, you may not notice it. But once it is gone, you feel lighter. You didn't notice it when it was bad (maybe) but then when it becomes resolved, you definitely notice the good.

I just read over this whole blog. I write an insane amount. It's just so...comforting. And it's nice to read over everything and realize that sometimes, I might actually have intelligent things to say. Now I just need to start taking my own advice.

I often wonder if I sound pretentious. I fear that I do. All broody and dramatic and all in strange English. I don't mean to be. I mean to be honest.

Everything has just begun to align. The reason for my musings on closure are that, I've come to decide, that perhaps I have to learn how to live with loose ends. Perhaps I have to learn how to participate in a knock-'em-down, drag-'em-out fight for a long time. Is that enough, to realize that closure may never happen?

I've noticed today that what bothers me is a general lack of respect for history. Now this is all kinds of history. It is political history, when people fail to see the nuances of an issue because they don't understand where it arose from. It is experiential history, when people fail to cease doing something even though the past shows it should not be done. It is social history, when people fail to recognize the histories of others, the memories and the pasts and the moments of others and simply choose to act upon however they feel at that point in time, regardless of the mountains of things other people have built up both for each other and for themselves. It is personal history, when people fail to learn from themselves. A general lack of history. I feel it as a constant annoyance.

A quote, from an earlier blog, but that is important. I still love the quote from yesterday, though.

"If we overcome space, then all we have left is here. And if we overcome time, then all we have left is now. And in the middle of here and now, don't you think we'll see each other once or twice?"-Jonathan Livingston Seagull