On Peanut Butter and Jelly

So I discovered something today. I am odd. Odd and yet I’m so completely amused by my own obscurity that I can only laugh quietly at myself in the midst of this world. My obscurity is not by any means new news to me, however it has recently become a source of amusement rather then a source of scorn and dissatisfaction. Today I sat at the health food store eating pizza, tofu and a pbj, surrounded by hippies, naturalists and eaters of collard greens. I laughed at myself. We are all pretending to be grownups with our smart food choices and our incredible sensibilities. Why? If we knew anything at all, we’d know that we will all stay childish, confused and needy for the rest of our lives.

I ate my $1.99 peanut butter and jelly sandwich with such satisfaction that I think even the checker’s wandering eyes pondered quizzical looks as they glanced up from their scanners. I fully realize the absurdity of purchasing a ready made peanut butter and jelly sandwich rather than the three ingredients that I could put together myself. However, I can’t ever seem to convince myself of my need for 15 pb+j’s. So I settle for just one. And I’m ashamed to admit, I often go out of my way for that “one”.

There is something about a pb+j that is soothing, like a summertime day as a child. Fingers and toes wrinkled from a long day at the pool. Laying out your towel on the concrete, eating a smashed and soggy pb+j from a sandwich baggy. Perfectly content just to be. I savor my sandwiches, absurdity and all. It reminds me of a simpler time. A time when food was always enjoyable and never a punishment or punishable. Food was just food, summer was just summer and life just kept on going.

Now in a world of critical thinking, planning, cramming, working, stressing and complicating, there is no more time for simple unadulterated pleasures. Risk free adventures. Unwasted time. Now time is always sitting next to me. At the dinner table, in class, in bed. Ticking loudly. Signaling the constant apprehension of what’s to come. Where have the pleasures gone? When did I stop believing in joy? When did I become so wrapped up in the future that I stopped actually living my life? I don’t know. Somewhere between poolside peanut butter and jellies and heavy textbooks I think I got lost.

I’m now crawling back towards my sun soaked little girl. I relish in my obscure and immature meals. And I pray that one day I can return to that little girl that is me. That I can return to a world of light and joy. I eat my pizza, cold tofu and my pb+j and I quietly chuckle to myself. To that little girl. And I relive the countless moments of my childhood, all wrapped up in a soggy sandwich that brings me just a taste of joy. A joy that I pursue with every bite and soon with every action. Because the studies of my life cannot just be the studies of ancient textbooks and millions of rules. Because the studies of my life should also be studies of joy. Of humanity. Of friendship. Of companions and adventures. Of stories and wishes. Of families and children. And peanut butter sandwiches by the pool.

Empty Influx

You know those moments when you just want to have contact with someone? To have a conversation with someone you haven’t heard from in a while, just to see how they are, hear about their life and their random musings And in turn to share the current moment of your life; what you made for breakfast, what anticipations you have for tomorrow, what random thoughts have been sifting their way through your brainwaves all week. It’s like all of a sudden you are in need of a sounding boar, a shape to give new insight and respond to the constant influx of thoughts. New information. New perspective.

When did I stop having people to contact? When did the people in my life become clearly separated into school and family. The people I go to school with are whom I discuss academics and future planning with. They are logical barriers who I can compare my academic self with. But they do not enter new information into my existence, they corroborate what I already know of my education. As for my family, they are the people I listen to, the people I share my dailiy trials and tribulations with. We all have a familiar pattern of neccessary discussion that always leads back to the same sound track. I love you. I’m here for you. You can do it.

How did I run out of categories for the people in my life so quickly? I don’t pride myself on having spontaneous conversation, the conversation in which I partake almost always contains a clear purpose, a problem to be fixed, a task to be accomplished. How did I just now realize the fallacy of this plan? How sad that makes the resonance of my life feel sometimes. People are constantly on the influx into or out of my life, I have learned to make that influx passive, never acting against the necessary, rarely making the effort to call back the important interactions to form something more long lasting. This process has always seemed to work in the past. However, at this very moment, I am questioning whether I should have made an effort to maintain the ties I previously have held with so many in the past. How is it that I have come to a rather empty feeling influx at this moment? I thought I was immune to loneliness.

A moment to ponder

You might say I have a stash of quotes, because I do. I cannot resist the temptation to retrace a beautiful quote again and again. I pull them from everywhere and yet they settle somewhere in my semiconscious waiting for me to reread them. They linger on the dashboard of my computer, in the small leather bound journal in my purse and with silver ink on blue paper as an entourage to my bedroom mirror. They add to me different layers of memory but also reminders of the unknown and the many configurations a life may align to. At times they are redundant, chorusing through my head back and forth over and over again. Other times they are purely contradictory, to each other, to my own life purpose and yet the opinionated and poised voice of another, trickling into my ears, transposing into neural connections, sends a sort of resounding reminder of space and perspective through the taught muscles and tired eyes of my daily life.

I must continue to surround myself with the brilliant configurations of words beyond my own. They add a structure that I ask myself to form myself around, through and outside of. They challenge me to define my own boundaries while recalling the complexity of the world surrounding me. I need this challenge, this dedication to personal growth instead of decay, this continual search for purpose. I will surround myself with the lovely, the profound but also the difficult and despair so that I might come to know all those parts of myself and never ignore all those integral pieces of humanity. Where I stand among humanity, the world, my own knowledge, is unknown. It is essential that I look outside of myself and begin to carefully describe the world I wish to define for myself.