The Battle Between My Brain & My Heart

Boys. I love them and I hate them. Not in a feminist ideology, equality-of-the-sexes way. In a "I've loved them and hated them since middle school for all the joy and pain they've brought me" way.

A handful of them have left marks on my life at different times, and undoubtedly, this has changed who I am as well as how I go about living my life afterward. I love it at the time; the excitement and the schoolgirl squeals and the butterflies in my tummy and all that jazz. But god, looking back at it, I can't help but roll my eyes and laugh. Why? Because I'm a cynic or a pessimist? No, I don't think so.

More likely it is because every time I have started with those squeals and that excitement, I have immediately imagined this perfect fantasy in my head, and once my heart is on-board with it, I am doomed. Doomed, because the actual relationship in reality has no chance of ever living up to the scenario in my head. So I laugh and roll my eyes afterward, because not a single one of those boys, just as young and inexperienced as me, had a prayer for giving me the perfection I didn't even realize I wanted.

One of the mind's favorite games to play is thinking without ever having the intention of acting. My brain loves to sit idly and fantasize about an imaginary future where everything is easy and things go perfectly according to plan. I like to dream up alternate universes where boys do exactly what I want them to do, and I have all the time and money in the world to make everything perfect. But I am a smart girl, and I know in reality, that's not how any of this works. Real life is not a Taylor Swift song. Time and money do not facilitate a perfect relationship. Manipulating others into doing what you want them to do, does not cultivate love and respect. It would be so easy if that's how things worked, but unfortunately it would not be even half as rewarding.

I have felt the highs and exciting squeals, and soon thereafter, the lows and the disappointed eye-rolls. I have played it cool and I have internally freaked out. I have played along in the game, just as I have been taught to do, and it worked out pretty well for me at first. But then my brain caught up to my heart and it metaphorically bitch-slapped it back into reality where it belongs. What am I thinking? What am I doing? This stuff is exhausting.

I am at odds with myself, and I have been for what often feels like forever; because my heart is busy painting big pictures and dancing around in the same euphoria it always demands, while my brain is scrambling to keep up as it files these grand ideals away neatly in their proper, alphabetized, places. I have always been a dreamer with a big imagination and enough ideas to never worry about coming back down to earth. That's why it has always been a less-than-graceful face-plant when I do come crashing down. I haven't ever really been bothered with the necessary planning that is required to build the steps on which I climb so high in the first place. But the existence of those steps is crucial for when the clouds of joy and excitement eventually fade away and I need something solid on which to support myself until my imagination can take off again.

I have always, for as long as I can remember, relished my individuality. I enjoyed alone time long before I ever enjoyed time spent with boys. My solitude means so much to me, that no obscene amount of money could ever compete. That's why I hate that I ever let a boy change that about me. There have been times in my life -- multiple in fact -- when I have felt myself lost, consumed almost entirely by someone else's being. Almost completely gone, I don't know if I would have been able to recognize who I am today in a mirror. It was a nightmare for someone like me, whose independent spirit demands to be recognized. I wondered how I ever allowed myself to get to that awful place. It is paramount that my individuality, my independence, remain untouched and intact, throughout every relationship with anyone that I ever have. I have known the feeling of losing myself in someone else before, and that is exactly why I now understand the importance of finding myself and never letting go again.

But it is so tough sometimes, when my dreamer's heart takes hold. It's like a kite caught by a strong northern wind, and all I can do is clutch helplessly onto the handle at the end of the string, holding on and being dragged along wherever it takes me until the wind dies down and all is calm again. My childlike heart does not care about the times it has been hurt before; it does not count the stitches in it or the scars it has collected over time. My heart has amnesia when it comes to the bruises and contusions it has suffered from all the times when I have lost myself in another. All it knows is, cute boy + possibility = grand illusions. My heart never paid attention to anything past this in math class.

My brain, on the other hand, gets it. My brain loves my independence more than almost everything else. Once the alcohol from the night before has worn off and the sunlight is streaming in through my window, my brain is awake and fully alert, demanding answers from my heart as if it is the main murder suspect sitting in an interrogation room. "What were you thinking? What were you doing? Didn't you learn anything from last time?" My brain is hesitant about making big commitments now, after what they have done to it in the past.  It understands that commitment to another person comes with the possibility of sacrificing a part of the whole person I already am. And my brain won't stand for such a betrayal of self anymore.

These two quarrel back and forth time and again, garnering experience and wisdom very slowly over time. My heart, throwing all caution to the wind and ordering just one more drink at the end of the night; and my brain chasing my heart frantically around, wagging its finger in its face like a disapproving mother. When will I learn?

I guess I will learn when I am ready to sacrifice a piece of my individuality for a piece of someone else, again. Out of unsolicited desire, rather than implied necessity. It will probably happen when the idea of taming my wild heart is no longer an option at all. Likely when someone else comes along and scoffs at the idea with the same disdain as I do. Someone who is appalled at the mere notion of me ever reigning my heartfelt ideals into the boxed-in framework of logic. I will finally know better when my brain draws a blank because my heart has already found the answers it seeks reflected in that of another.

But who knows when that day will be? Who knows what I will have to go through and experience in order to prepare myself for that opportunity? I sure as hell don't. So until that day arrives and hits me in the face like a ton of bricks, I guess I can just keep on dreamin', doing all the things that make me wonderfully myself. I can keep wearing my heart on my sleeve and gaining glorious experiences and having my hopes shattered time and again. Because really, it all adds up to the net sum of myself in the end, anyway. And none of it is so bad that it cannot eventually be overcome. I've got twenty-one-and-a-half years of empirical proof of that.

I'm not ready just yet to give up any part of myself or my freedom just because I like someone else. Yeah, I may like them, but I love myself more. This is something I have learned through experience over the years. And the way I see it, if someone is stupid enough to ask me to like them more than I like myself, well... they're just not a good fit for me. The day my brain draws a blank and doesn't know what to tell my heart to do, will be the day when someone comes along and tells me, "Don't you dare change any part of who you are for me. I love you for you, not for being a reflection of me." My brain will be perplexed by such an idea, and it won't have a file to reference. But my heart will finally understand.

Hitler, Voldemort, Fear, Love, and Terrorism

You know what I think? I think terrorists like it when countries are so occupied with fighting against themselves that they can’t work together to present a unified front for combating terrorism. I believe that they count on all of us, as individual citizens, feeling isolated, terrified, and angry. Their success depends on our failure to act cohesively against them. How do you take out one of the most powerful threats to your cause? You break them down into their individual, weakest links, and dissolve their hopeful morale so much until the unified hatred you can offer them is the best option for solace they have – from the very fear which you manufactured and instilled in them in the first place. United we stand, divided we fall.

That’s what Hitler did. He showed the German populace that the Nazi regime was a valiant cause to protect German nationalism and the best interests of the people. He told the citizens of a fearful, war-torn country that he would help pull them out of the wreckage left behind from World War I. He gave the hopeless, vulnerable people something they could believe in. Then he twisted their well-meaning faith into brainwashing and persuaded many to support a message which was contrary to his original rhetoric.

He conveniently provided the German people with a scapegoat for their woes; an entire group of people where they could place the blame. He focused his arguments around how these people were different from the Germans – they were “others,” they were inferior, and they were most certainly worthy of hatred. Hitler stripped the Jewish people of their humanity, and he made doing so seem so trendy, that an entire country jumped on the bandwagon. And in case they weren’t so easily convinced, he had a militant regime of weapons-yielding marionettes ready to help enforce his hatred.

Hitler preyed on the Germans’ fear; he hooked them with illusions of a better life, showed them the actions they could take to make it a reality, and then he manipulated masses of people into fighting his cause for him – his cause, of violence and bigotry, convincing the German population to turn against themselves and fight their own brothers and sisters, resulting in the most death the world has ever seen from a single war – a war which dragged nearly every country in the world into violent death and despair. A war, started out of manufactured fear, and after which, FDR eloquently pointed out, "The only thing we've got to fear is fear itself."

Hitler was a real bad guy. He actually existed, he lived and breathed, and walked among places we can still visit today. But since Hitler’s time, fictitious bad guys have been based off of some of his qualities – his authoritative leadership, his implicit coercion and explicit threats, his dependence on fear and isolation among the masses. Take for instance, Voldemort.

Voldemort did much the same thing as Hitler, though Voldemort is a fictional character in Harry Potter. The reason why so many fans love Harry Potter and its characters is because it is so relatable – Voldemort is to the wizarding world what Hitler is to ours.

There is a scene, in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, toward the end of the movie, where the always-wise and unconventional Luna Lovegood tells Harry, “If I were You-Know-Who, I'd want you to feel cut off from everyone else. Because if it's just you alone, you're not as much of a threat.” And that’s exactly it. People like Voldemort (referred to as “You-Know-Who because people feared him that much) and Hitler understand this fact better than anyone else, because it worked for them. If a dictator – a terrorist – can successfully isolate the people whom they wish to target, then it is suddenly much easier to manipulate them. How does a terrorist successfully isolate people whom they wish to target, you ask? Well, historically speaking, it seems fear tactics are a pretty good place to start.

Voldemort murdered hundreds of thousands of people needlessly; he enslaved others to do his bidding for him; he held others hostage and tortured them for information. He was a pretty bad guy, in general. But how did he get to such a position of power? Fear.

He spouted rhetoric to the Pureblood witches and wizards of the world that they were superior creatures. He provided this fictional Aryan Race with a scapegoat of their own – the Muggles, and well, anyone with a blood status less than Pureblood. He focused on how people were different, strategically ignoring (and actually not even knowing) the humanity common to all. Voldemort told the masses that these people were “others,” they were inferior, and they were most certainly worthy of hatred. Sound familiar? He also had his very own legion of loyal, militant puppets with weapons (okay, wands) ready to enforce his hatred.

Voldemort showed the Pureblood witches and wizards of the world how Half-Bloods, Muggleborns, Muggles, house elves, centaurs, and pretty much every other living creature on the planet contributed to the bane of their existence. He promised the Purebloods their lives would be better if only they could wipe out these inferior creatures – do his bidding for him – and those most loyal to him (who committed the most war crimes) felt the safest from his own dangerous power. In hurting others, they felt they were protecting themselves from becoming targets. In fact, he invoked so much fear, that people were actually afraid of even saying Voldemort's name. However, as our beloved Hermione Granger points out, "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

Voldemort reduced the wizarding world to fighting against itself. He distracted great, intelligent witches and wizards from fighting the true evil – hatred, fear, and bigotry – by emphasizing differences among themselves and telling one group they were better than the rest. He robbed his scapegoats of their humanity, just as Hitler did with the Jews, and he taught the aggressors that they would finally have the power and respect they deserved, if only they could eradicate the world of its scourge of Muggles.

He did all of this by preying on the fear of Purebloods. He was able to convince one half of the population to murder the other by simply playing into the things that scared them most – losing their lives, their loved ones, their power, their reputation. Whatever the individual feared, Voldemort worked on a personal level to threaten, in order to rise to power. He did so by strategically disintegrating any remaining sense of community among witches and wizards. He made sure everyone felt alone and vulnerable, untrusting of those around them, and concerned only with protecting their own self interests. By fostering a toxic environment rife with uncertainty, fear, and hatred, Voldemort was able to manipulate full-grown adults into waging a war against themselves, against humanity.

Why is any of this relevant? Why am I sitting at my keyboard, passionately typing away in a blaze of fury about Hitler and Voldemort, drawing comparisons between the two and their fear tactics? I’ll tell you: Hitler and Voldemort were dictators, yes. They were also terrorists. They struck fear and hatred into the hearts and minds of millions. They both began wars with their respective worlds, born out of their own prejudices and bigotry. They manufactured fear in large groups of people, fear that did not exist before, and then they conveniently provided a solution to the problem they just created.

They told their audiences: “Look at how miserable you are! Aren’t you miserable? I know why. You are miserable because of this other group of people. They are different from you, and you are better than them. Your life is worth more than theirs. In fact, your life would be better if theirs ceased to exist. They are the cause of all of your problems. Hate them. Kill them. Follow me. I will help you in this cause, and together we will be happier without them.” They preyed on the fear of their audiences and brainwashed them into fighting an imaginary war which had real consequences.

This is what terrorists do. They terrorize. They create fear in others that never would have grown organically. They plant the seed of doubt in the minds of so many; and they water it occasionally, fertilizing it with hatred, bigotry, xenophobia, and transferring blame and responsibility to someone else. They tend to this garden regularly, and eventually, fear has grown to its full size. Then they harvest this fear they’ve created and nurtured from conception, and just like a vegetable, they use it to nourish themselves, to further their cause. Fear provides nutrients to terrorists. It is what they depend on to survive.

If you fear another group of people, who don’t look like you, speak like you, dress like you, or come from the same place as you, then you will likely turn to what is more familiar and comfortable to you. And what is easier and more comfortable for us than blaming someone else, who we already fear, for the problems we think we have?

Don’t let the terrorists win. They’ve already won too many battles before. Don’t let them create a feeling of fear inside of you that doesn’t need to exist. The best way to do this is by reaching out, facing that supposed fear. If you would only take a moment to recognize the humanity which resides in all of us, you would realize that people who are different from us are nothing to be feared. If you do not allow the terrorists to cultivate a shadow of doubt within you, then you will understand that we are all one common, human race; and that in hating our sisters and brothers, we are, in fact, hating ourselves.

The terrorists have planted the seed. They are encouraging it to grow. They’re counting on it for their harvest in order to survive. We can choose to believe their fear tactics and water the seed, or we can remain resilient in our faith in humanity, and resolve to be as hard to crack as the Kansas earth in the planting season.

There’s another scene in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix which comes to mind. Upon realizing the seriousness of the impending war, Harry remarks, “Even though we've got a fight ahead of us, we've got one thing that Voldemort doesn't have… Something worth fighting for.” Harry knows that unity among all is the answer, and he knows that Voldemort literally cannot feel love. That is why he strives so hard to achieve power through hatred and evil. But Harry understands that the solution for winning a war against terrorists like Voldemort is not fighting against a cause or a group of people. It's not fighting among ourselves which will win. The answer is fighting for all the things and people you love, with all of the differences between you which make up a united, differentiated front. Fear of others never had a chance to blossom inside of Harry, because he was too busy nurturing love for all.

Turning our backs on those who need help and lumping entire groups of people together as scapegoats is not only morally irresponsible, but it is playing directly into the hands of the terrorists. Fear in the hearts of the masses is the best tool they have for succeeding, and they know it. They're bloodthirsty for it. Holding love in our hearts, in place of fear, is our best weapon against them.

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 29 (Your 21st Birthday)

Day 29: The night of your 21st birthday

My twenty-first birthday was not as exciting as it could have been. My birthday is on Valentine's Day and I wore a red dress on a cold night to dinner and a comedy club with some friends. I had two drinks the entire night and in total I only spent $5 to tip our Safe Ride driver for driving us home, even though we were all well below the legal limit.

I had a good night with many people who I wanted to be with. I chose an Italian restaurant to eat at and we went to watch a ventriloquist talk about why love sucks on Valentine's Day night. I had a good birthday.

However, since I turned twenty-one, just over nine months ago, I have had more experiences going out with friends and buying alcohol in general. That being said, the night of my twenty-first birthday pales a bit in comparison as far as fun, (potentially) memorable nights go. I think I would do things a bit differently now, if I were to turn twenty-one again. I'd have a bit more sloppy fun with different people. But that's not to take anything away from my birthday. I did everything I wanted to do. Now, I just think what I want to do wouldn't be the same.

The twenty-first birthday is actually only such a big deal in Western culture, anyway. The majority of countries in the world do not place such emphasis, nor waste so much money, on the "coming-of-age" moment that is being able to purchase and legally consume alcohol at twenty-one years of age. It's really just not as big of a deal anywhere else in the world as it is in America. More important is the focus on another year of life experiences and understanding gained, another year of both formal and informal education under my belt, another span of time showcasing my growth from one year ago to now. That's the stuff that really matters. Not paying $16 for a new horizontal ID that allows me to buy a beer at Applebee's.

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 28 (A Phrase You Use Constantly)

Day 28: The word/phrase you use constantly

There seem to be a lot of trendy phrases in use today, and they phase in and out, changing throughout time with the seasons. But one phrase which I have used consistently in my life since I can remember is, "oh my god".

I find this to be indicative of something in our culture, although I couldn't necessarily tell you what. I am not a religious person, and I do not believe in God. At least, not the way that 95% of the rest of Kansans do. I'm not a Christian, so I find it to be funny that I use the phrase "oh my god" so often. I don't think it has any religious context to it anymore, for anyone. (Except for my super Christian eighth grade teacher who would get overly-offended if we used it in class, in our public school.)

Anyway, I don't think of it as having anything to do with religion. It's just another phrase in the evolution of language. To me, "oh my god" is something you exclaim when you are shocked or appalled about something. I use it to express a wide array of feelings: anger, annoyance, surprise, disgust, joy, pride, hunger, impatience, understanding... It is kind of a catch-all phrase for me, and I would say it serves the same purpose for many others around me, as well... Christians and non-Christians, alike.

My French friends like to tease me about how "American" I sound when I exclaim "Oh my god!" without even realizing I'm doing it. They've told me on several occasions, "The French don't say, 'oh mon Dieu!'" Which is true, and why I think it is specific only to the English-speaking culture of America (and perhaps Britain, although I have no firsthand experience by which to attest).

I say many other things constantly, like "I can't even" and "Are you kidding me?" but by and large, and for the longest amount of time, "Oh my god" has certainly been the most common.

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 27 (What You Wore Today)

Day 27: What you wore today

I'm going to write this in the present tense, because it is easy and I don't want to wait until later tonight to do it. So, today I am wearing:

• Teal, long sleeve, scoop neck cotton shirt
• Black cotton weaved infinity scarf
• Off-white, brown floral and paisley print, faded skinny jeans
• Black leather boots
• Black synthetic peacoat

That's all. What an easy thing to write about.

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 26 (Things You'd Say To An Ex)

Day 26: Things you'd say to an ex

First things first, I just want to say that I have never really much fancied the term "ex", because it is so obviously lacking a noun. Ex-what? To me, it sounds harsh and finite and just rough around the edges. Maybe it's because I love words so much that I choose mine so carefully, but to me, "ex" conveys something less-than. It purposely reduces a person with whom you shared something of yourself, to nothing more than a monosyllabic letter of the alphabet; a slashing sound uttered only with disdain in an attempt to distance yourself from pain.

I suppose this is a completely subjective feeling, and it probably stems from the fact that I have never had a relationship end so horribly that I have ever felt such disdain. Or perhaps I simply know that attempting to distance myself from the pain with my linguistics will not actually lead me to any closure or healing in the end. At any rate, I don't like the phrase "ex" because to me, it seems like an attempt to erase the person from the word. "Ex" is only an adjective, after all. By leaving it at that, you're eradicating everything else they ever were to you. Ex-boyfriend, ex-best friend, ex-lover, ex-confidant, ex-support system... And I suppose that thinking about all those nouns is what really does a lot of people in. That's why they stick with simply calling them an "ex". It doesn't do justice to all that the person used to be to them, and that's the point.

Anyway, now that I have said my piece about that, I will get to the point: things I would say to a former boyfriend. The list is quite short, and I am going to include both those people who wore the actual title of "boyfriend" as well as those who didn't quite get there, but who more or less filled the role. While there are certainly some specific things I would say to the boys with whom I've had relationships, there are also some things which are universal to all of them, and that I'd probably say to any future former boyfriends of  mine, too, just as the nature of who I am. So I'm going to stick to those.

1. Thank you. Thank you for the experience you allowed me to have by knowing you, and thank you for helping develop my own personal growth in doing so. I am grateful to you for embarking on this journey together with me, no matter how it turned out. We have given one another precious moments of our lives which we will never get back, and invested hours into a relationship that ultimately failed. But there are tremendous lessons to be learned from failure; more so than there will ever be from success. You trusted me with your heart and we shared things together which nobody else will ever know or understand. You invested in me just as I invested in you, and even though it ended differently than we would've once hoped, we both walked away from it better for the trouble. So thank you for this opportunity and privilege of learning and growing, both together and independently.

2. I'm sorry. I am the farthest thing from perfect, as I am sure you realized this after the honeymoon phase was over. I cry, I storm off angry, I am a master of the silent treatment. I have a temper which rivals that of a grizzly bear. I am sure we fought over some really stupid stuff. I am positive I started at least half of those fights. And I probably made you feel guilty about it afterward, too. I bet when you were busy daydreaming about me during those first few weeks, you had no idea what a nightmare I could be. I'm sorry for the times when I jumped to conclusions or picked a fight over something which really doesn't matter anymore. Now that our time is over, looking back at those fights, I wish I would've been more aware that I was wasting precious time of which we were only allotted so much.

3. I forgive you. This one is most certainly the hardest, and it undoubtedly took me the longest time to get around to doing. As terrible as I can be, you can be too. We are both human and we have both done things to one another which have left permanent scars. A few of those things were intentional, but most of them were not. Most of them were simple casualties of love; or at least, an attempt at loving one another as imperfect people held up against our own stupid standard of perfection. Sometimes you broke my heart in a million little ways, over the course of time. Other times, you broke it a one big hurrah where I questioned everything our relationship ever meant to me. Yet, the beautiful thing, and the most important thing, about love and heartbreak, is forgiveness. I could name all the ways you destroyed me. Or I could focus instead on the time, determination, and energy I put into forgiving you for all of it. You broke my heart. But in doing so, you broke it free of the cage which encased it and allowed it to spread its wings and fly toward its freedom. Once I was able to forgive you for breaking it, I was able to realize all I could do after being broken.

So far in my life, I have been very lucky to have the kind of relationships which have ended in mutual respect, amicability, and a basic understanding that the rights of each of us as individuals come before any obligation to another. In my mere 21 years of life and love, I have begun to understand the adage "if you love something, let it go". To truly want someone who you love so deeply to be happy, means understanding the sacrifice you will be making if their happiness does not include you. That is a lesson which can only be learned through painstaking experience. It is inexplicable to someone who has never felt it.

I'd say many more things to the boys who have been known a temporary residence inside of my heart, but to do so would be disrespectful of the peace which I have attained with each of them. Love hurts us more often than it does not, but part of the journey to our own happiness is following our heart, even when it drags us through some of the worst pain we've ever known. Through this deeply personal pain, we gain a kind of clarity which we didn't have before; which teaches us lessons in all sorts of things, but especially in gratitude, forgiveness, and acceptance. I believe it would be foolish of us to succumb to the desire to avoid our pain, and allow ourselves to forget the very people who offered us the opportunities to learn so much about ourselves in the first place. After all, an important part of knowing where you're going, is understanding where it is you're coming from.

30 Day Writing Challenge: Day 25 (Four Weird Traits You Have)

Day 25: Four weird traits you have

I don't really know what qualifies as a weird trait, but I can certainly think of four traits that I do have, regardless of their weirdness level.

1. I pop my body all the time. Knuckles, neck, back, hips, ankles, wrists... Pretty much every joint I have, I pop. I know I shouldn't. Everybody tells me that, including my chiropractor. But I still do.

2. I like eating pickles with applesauce. This came about from USD 470 serving dill pickle spears alongside applesauce and cinnamon rolls on chili day. I don't remember what compelled me to pick up that first pickle and dip it in the applesauce, but I have loved them paired together ever since.

3. I will stop what I am doing to clip a hang nail if I see one. Oftentimes, this is probably more a product of my own intense procrastination than anything else, but I suppose it could also have something to do with my desire to fix a problem right away when I notice it, rather than letting it sit. Especially if it is one which is literally right at my fingertips.

4. It's hard for me to go to sleep without first applying any Chapstick. Again, I'm unsure of when this tick came about, but for as long as I can remember, I have felt weird without anything on my lips, particularly on my way to sleep.

There you have it. Those are the first four weird traits I can think of.