Blind Courage

Good Evening, Moths. 

It is 1:30 in the morning. A time when one would normally be sleeping, refueling their body with tender sleep to prepare for the coming day. I, unfortunately, am not one of those lucky people. My soul calls for writing, and so I am here.......writing..

You see I have the mind of a highway at rush hour. Bustling with the noise of honking horns, or in my case, thoughts. Thoughts with the intention of arriving at some destination, but getting jammed with countless others, left to sit, rather impatiently, and fester. A traffic jam of the mind.

The only way to clear a traffic jam is to allow the cars to flow. And so shall my thoughts.

Metaphors aside, I do have one such thought that has earned the subject of tonight's post. And that thought is romanticized......well, romance. Let me set the stage:

It is a time before Facebook and Twitter and even the mighty Google. A time before a couple of clicks told you everything you needed to know about a person before even speaking a word to them. Bookstores were alive and visited often. (Yes, they used to have actual stores filled with actual books you could hold in your hands, as opposed to the electronic versions available on your kindle using one-click shopping on amazon that can be bought without so much as leaving your bed. Imagine that.) In order to truly get to know someone else, you had to talk in person. Take walks in the park. Get coffee together.

In this long lost world, there are two people talking to each other via online chatting. Neither know the identity of the other, they simply speak to one another willingly. They feel as if they truly connect with each other, despite never having met in person. They speak about books that make them feel some kind of way, thoughts they have over the course of a day, and so on. The woman owns a neighborhood bookstore, one she had inherited after the passing of her beloved mother. The man, quite ironically, is helping to open a big-chain bookstore across the way that inevitably leads to the downfall of the woman's dearly cherished store. Neither of them know how pivotal a role the other plays in their lives, and they even cross paths and interact on multiple occasions (with little warmth for another, of course.) The man finds out first who she is, he comes to the realization that she is everything he wants in his life, and fights to earn her affection. In the end they finally meet, and she simply says "I was so hoping it was you," after which they have the long awaited first kiss.

Some of you may be thinking, this kind of thing only happens in the movies. Well, you're absolutely right. I'll give you two big hints: the woman is Meg Ryan and the man is Tom Hanks.......

You've. Got. Mail.

The quintessential recipe for a classic romantic comedy, or rom com. As if "Sleepless in Seattle" wasn't enough, they had to go and make another one. If there's anything you need to know about me, it is 1) I am a utterly hopeless romantic who is convinced was born in the wrong decade, and 2) I am an absolute sucker for the sappy, predictable yet heart-wrenching movie genre known as rom coms. Nobody likes to admit they're a sucker for this stuff, but deep down we all are, don't lie to yourself...

Anyway, what was my point in all of this? Yes, the basis of this movie is totally cliche and probably unrealistic, but the idea that falling in love with someone's words rather than their looks is something worth delving into. It is such a foreign concept in today's technology driven world. There are apps where we "swipe left" or "swipe right" based solely on a person's image. We first judge a person's appearance before deciding whether they are worthy enough to start a conversation with, never have knowing whether they have a wealth of knowledge to share or a story worthy of telling. How many people have we passed on throughout our lives that may have been able to say the words you wish you could speak with someone else or discuss something you too are desperately passionate about? We'll never know the answer to that, but I can guarantee there have been a few.

We go through life thinking we know what we want in a person. We have an image ingrained in our minds early on of what our perfect match would look like and how tall they would be and how the story of how you two met would play out. We're so set on finding these attributes that a person who may be everything you'd hoped for is overlooked because they're a few inches too short or they're not what your parents envision for you. How can such minuscule infractions cause us to pass on even the tiniest chance of being with someone that gets you? Someone that understands you and all that you believe in? Someone who may love you?

I know, I know. Someone's been watching one too many romances lately. I'll try to tone down the dramatics.....In essence, love may be presented to you in many different forms. We just need to gather the courage to set aside our expectations of what it's supposed to look like, and deeply cherish having even the slightest chance of tasting what it is to love and be loved.

Have the courage, moths. xoxo

Unidentified

Who Am I?

The color of my hair?

The clothes that I wear?

The touching of my thighs?

The circles under my eyes?

The petiteness of my feet?

The food that I eat?

The dimple in my chin?

The paleness of my skin?

The grades of my tests?

The size of my chest?

The secrets that I hide?

The times that I've cried?

Who Am I?

(b.m.)

Solace

I seek solace within nature,

In moment of utter despair.

No presence is there greater;

For loneliness I cannot bare.

First, 

I hear the gossiping trees,

Whose whispers fill the air.

Curses travel with the breeze;

To the woodpeckers they swear.

Second,

The restless stream passing by,

We've little time to chat.

To each other we never lie;

A simple tit-for-tat.

Next,

Always one to voice an opinion,

The cardinal's never shy.

Loudly claiming his dominion;

Must he constantly pry?

Last,

The sound of a howling tune,

From where else but the wind.

As a wolf to the full moon;

Confessing of all his sin.

The sounds occupy my tired soul,

Quieting my destructive mind.

Slowly filling the hollowed hole;

Dissipated are thoughts unkind.

-b.m.

Blurred Lines

Andrew Salgado

On the Outside, Looking In

Happy Humpday Ya'll!

I didn't post yesterday *gasp* because it was a verrrrry busy day. I hope I haven't left you all in suspense--you can breathe again, I'm back!

Despite my online absence yesterday, I was thinking of the topic for my latest post. I was riding the university bus after class when we passed one of the esteemed Rutgers academic buildings. Mind you it was night time, so the lighted rooms were clear to see into from the inside of my rusted transportation beast--I am a firm believer that there is beauty and wonder in the most mundane of things, if only we have the patience and imagination to see it. As I passed this academic building, I got a little glimpse into each class being held at that moment. In one room, two students were standing in the front of the class, most likely presenting something, and I caught a few smiles from the students watching. Another room had, from what I could gather, a most enthusiastic professor waving her arms in the air, speaking of something with passion. I couldn't stop thinking about those rooms with the entertained students and lively professors for the entirety of that bus ride. Even now I am amazed by that brief, yet everlasting and unforgettable scene.

This is feeling very 'Girl on the Train' Bri....

Don't worry, I'm not involved in any type of murder mystery....

..that I am aware of..

That's besides the point! What struck me so much about this is that each room contained different people from different places, with different backgrounds, pursuing different degrees, at different points in their life (wow, that's a lot of 'different's), and yet they all came together in this one little room at the exact same time to learn the same thing. It's as if each room was their own world. I was seeing each as an observer looking in, but they were fully unaware of the bustling of the streets outside, or the "worlds" right on the other sides of their own walls--or me, for that matter. Each individual remaining in tune with what was happening in their room, what was happening in that present moment. It was almost like an out-of-body experience: physically I was riding this overcrowded, deafening, odorous bus, but mentally I was exported for a brief second into each of their worlds, smiling as I saw the students smiling, or furrowing my eyebrows as I saw that professor discussing something quite heatedly. With a bump in the road, I came back to reality, but it was a bittersweet moment. I know, I know, no one thinks this deeply about a building they passed on the bus, but it's just the way my brain interacts with the world around me in an attempt to make sense of it all. Is this what 'La La Land' is about? 

Another moment in time that I ceaselessly think about this kind of thing is when I am entrapped in heavy traffic. Most people hate traffic, but for me it's an excuse to blast music and sing (not so well, I'll admit) as loudly as possible! When I'm not breaking the glass with my voice, I like to imagine the lives of each of the passengers in their cars. Where are they all going? Where have they all been? What was their day like today? All of these strangers that I have never met in my life, and most likely will never see again, converge to be at the exact same place as me in that given point of time. It makes you feel so small in this world, that there are so many people living their own lives that don't include you in it. Individuals whose paths may never cross yours, yet they continue on to some unknown future. It gives you a different perspective of those around you. Rather than disregarding them as 'just strangers', maybe recognize them as individual souls on the most epic hike that is their life.

Maybe that's what links us all as a human race...

Start looking more closely, moths. xoxo