Wild Flash
Hee. I'm going to spend one of those lovely random moments sitting here thinking out loud to a screen.
You don't have to read if you don't like random. Logical people rarely like random, and I pick up a lot of logical people. Hang on...that doesn't make sense. If they're logical and don't like random, why do they like me? True, I'm not as random as I could be, and as other people are...did I REALLY say that...?
Hm. Anyway. You really, really don't have to read this. Cause I'm just wondering about me and humans in general. Nothing inspiring. Nothing intellectually burning. I can see one or two people switching off and going to something worthwhile right now...and one or two others grimly setting their teeth and ploughing through my verbosity, simply cause it's me that's writing it.
Another nonsensical thing. You're ploughing through the very stuff that makes me me. Come out of your head and enjoy mine a minute. :P
Well. That was what one could call the prelude. I'm sorry if I'm kinda distracted...I'm trying not to remember that I have a phone and contact lenses to hunt down in "The Tip", a phone call to make which will deposit me on the statistics of the nation's unemployed, a uniform to iron, a room to hastily straighten (wonder of wonders...!) and that I have to be out at 5:10...in uniform...for a great evening...with my great friends...in my great gang of 196. :P
And also, I'm listening to One Life to Love ~ 33 Miles and Strong Enough to Save ~ Tenth Avenue North (how I love that band!) intermittently while typing. I should really type which one I'm listening to every time it changes....that would look funny.
"Now I'm thinking, (Strong Enough to Save)..." Three minutes later, "well, I wish to draw to a (One Life to Love)." Ah well, I really shall stop my unintellectual babbling this time!
Most people go through life and present a calm and stoical front. Sure, they have interests that, if you hit on, they flare up in excitement. Pulling that cord in people always has the most interesting results...and usually develops quite a friendship, if it's something you can actually respond to in a hearty, animated, or at least, interested manner.
I do it too. *solemn faced nod* In fact, the wild, bubbly, merry Jane you all know on screen just isn't me in real life. Well...Andrew Beals could probably argue that point, so I'll say - rarely, unless you put me in the right company. The solemn, withdrawn, staid, "boring nonentity" who can actually hold an intellectual (to a small level) conversation in real life would probably shock you.
Yet underneath, there is a wildness. Is it the Celtic blood in me, I wonder? That makes the flash of temper, the sparkling eye, the toss of the red hair; that's for certain. Most Celts are known for their fiery tempers, and I'm no exception. But I'm wondering...what is responsible for the deep yearnings and strange flashs? The part of me that loves the deep crimson red of a flower or a dress? (Though I can't wear red. Makes me look like something dragged out of a mud puddle.) That adores the elusive delicacy of a rainbow; that is attracted by the multiple facets and uses and beauty of words, of language, of letters, of phrases.
What is the wild spark that at times flares up to an intense ache within me that I cannot run out of a home in the hills and run, and run, and run, and fling myself on the ground and stare up at the clear, sparkling night sky with clean air? What is it that makes me want to jump in a time capsule and shoot back roughly 200 years and sail into a Victorian ball, in a dress floating like a cloud, and spend all day waltzing with a gentleman - or several? What is it about the magic of dance, the glory of nature, the clearness of a stream tumbling over huge rocks? Why do I want something more than to be in a little room, with my friends in a little box, in a little town, aiming for a career that is the only thing that will open a broad horizon, and even that, within a certain area?
What is the fiery burning, the passionate ache, the longing desire that could set me running and never stop until I had to?
Why does the event I described a while back - riding with my head out the window - why do things like that, like the crashing roar of violent waves and the forceful gale of the wind set off that wildness?
And yes...I don't think I'm the only one with that flame. Why do we all curb it to fall in with society and the ordered regime?
*sighs* I know the flame must be curbed because we all have to live a life that is acceptable. Even though we only have the one. I wonder...I wonder...I wonder...is wondering the start of the fire? I wonder how many people actually are aware they even have that wildness, or whether it's sat on so that they're only aware of some disturbed little uneasiness when they ignore it.
Maybe one day...there will be a time when we can all follow the flame, rather than quench it to follow the norm.
You don't have to read if you don't like random. Logical people rarely like random, and I pick up a lot of logical people. Hang on...that doesn't make sense. If they're logical and don't like random, why do they like me? True, I'm not as random as I could be, and as other people are...did I REALLY say that...?
Hm. Anyway. You really, really don't have to read this. Cause I'm just wondering about me and humans in general. Nothing inspiring. Nothing intellectually burning. I can see one or two people switching off and going to something worthwhile right now...and one or two others grimly setting their teeth and ploughing through my verbosity, simply cause it's me that's writing it.
Another nonsensical thing. You're ploughing through the very stuff that makes me me. Come out of your head and enjoy mine a minute. :P
Well. That was what one could call the prelude. I'm sorry if I'm kinda distracted...I'm trying not to remember that I have a phone and contact lenses to hunt down in "The Tip", a phone call to make which will deposit me on the statistics of the nation's unemployed, a uniform to iron, a room to hastily straighten (wonder of wonders...!) and that I have to be out at 5:10...in uniform...for a great evening...with my great friends...in my great gang of 196. :P
And also, I'm listening to One Life to Love ~ 33 Miles and Strong Enough to Save ~ Tenth Avenue North (how I love that band!) intermittently while typing. I should really type which one I'm listening to every time it changes....that would look funny.
"Now I'm thinking, (Strong Enough to Save)..." Three minutes later, "well, I wish to draw to a (One Life to Love)." Ah well, I really shall stop my unintellectual babbling this time!
Most people go through life and present a calm and stoical front. Sure, they have interests that, if you hit on, they flare up in excitement. Pulling that cord in people always has the most interesting results...and usually develops quite a friendship, if it's something you can actually respond to in a hearty, animated, or at least, interested manner.
I do it too. *solemn faced nod* In fact, the wild, bubbly, merry Jane you all know on screen just isn't me in real life. Well...Andrew Beals could probably argue that point, so I'll say - rarely, unless you put me in the right company. The solemn, withdrawn, staid, "boring nonentity" who can actually hold an intellectual (to a small level) conversation in real life would probably shock you.
Yet underneath, there is a wildness. Is it the Celtic blood in me, I wonder? That makes the flash of temper, the sparkling eye, the toss of the red hair; that's for certain. Most Celts are known for their fiery tempers, and I'm no exception. But I'm wondering...what is responsible for the deep yearnings and strange flashs? The part of me that loves the deep crimson red of a flower or a dress? (Though I can't wear red. Makes me look like something dragged out of a mud puddle.) That adores the elusive delicacy of a rainbow; that is attracted by the multiple facets and uses and beauty of words, of language, of letters, of phrases.
What is the wild spark that at times flares up to an intense ache within me that I cannot run out of a home in the hills and run, and run, and run, and fling myself on the ground and stare up at the clear, sparkling night sky with clean air? What is it that makes me want to jump in a time capsule and shoot back roughly 200 years and sail into a Victorian ball, in a dress floating like a cloud, and spend all day waltzing with a gentleman - or several? What is it about the magic of dance, the glory of nature, the clearness of a stream tumbling over huge rocks? Why do I want something more than to be in a little room, with my friends in a little box, in a little town, aiming for a career that is the only thing that will open a broad horizon, and even that, within a certain area?
What is the fiery burning, the passionate ache, the longing desire that could set me running and never stop until I had to?
Why does the event I described a while back - riding with my head out the window - why do things like that, like the crashing roar of violent waves and the forceful gale of the wind set off that wildness?
And yes...I don't think I'm the only one with that flame. Why do we all curb it to fall in with society and the ordered regime?
*sighs* I know the flame must be curbed because we all have to live a life that is acceptable. Even though we only have the one. I wonder...I wonder...I wonder...is wondering the start of the fire? I wonder how many people actually are aware they even have that wildness, or whether it's sat on so that they're only aware of some disturbed little uneasiness when they ignore it.
Maybe one day...there will be a time when we can all follow the flame, rather than quench it to follow the norm.
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Thanks for sharing your thoughts. :)