Yesterday really sucked. I found myself feeling drained and miserable after a long week. Being over dramatic now, I would say last week was a perfect storm of just crap and bad feelings all at once. It doesn't help that I am an overly sensitive person who gets overwhelmed by strong emotions that I so smartly keep bottled up inside. It feels so good to get that down. It's hard enough to admit, let alone put down in a place where I can see it and know that it's real.
But there's this amazing thing that people do that make things ok - it's called writing. Thursday evening I started reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I've seen the movie before. Mostly it looked interesting, but partly I was curious to see Emma Watson play someone other than Hermione. I find I like her 1000 Xs better post HP b/c not only has her acting skills sharpened, but she's a super bad ass kinda lady. Sorry, off topic.
I am usually the kind of person to read a book before I see the movie. The book is almost universally better than the movie, so I figure I might as not ruin the story with the movie. If I see a movie first, chances are I may never read the book (unless maybe if I didn't know there was a book beforehand). But why did I read this one? I am pretty selective with the modern novels I read, preferring to be pretentious and read classics written before anyone I've ever met was born. But I read this interview with Justin Pierre (of Motion City Soundtrack). He really like the book, so I took it on recommendation.
You may not know this, but I am pretty selective on who I let recommend books to me. My aunt is one person, since she's an excellent reader and has given me many books I've loved. My best friend is another, since she's an excellent writer with great taste. But I've learned from other people that note every one's tastes work with mine. So why did I read this book because Justin Pierre did? I have no idea about his reading tastes. But it goes deeper than that. I think of all the musicians I listen to, his words resonate with me the most. There's something I connect to in his music.
So I get why this book really got to me. It's like that musician, that character, and I are all somehow kindred souls in a way. It's kind of a crappy way to times, but that's okay. I think I really needed this book this weekend. I read it Thursday and Friday evenings before bed, but really plowed through it Saturday morning. I mean, it only barely breaks 200 pages, so for me that's nothing.
I found myself relating to this weirdness that a few of us have that no one can really explain, sometimes not ever ourselves. And it's odd this getting to know people and getting into their lives, seeing people and understanding them, yet feeling there's always this space between where they are and where you are.
I am beginning to wonder if I'm too much of a Wallflower. I've been there before, I think, in different times in different ways. People I know maybe wouldn't think to say I don't participate, because I volunteer for a lot and like to get involved. But something happened the other day that threw me off. I did this exercise where a partner and I had to write 3 words that we thought about the other. One of the words the other person thought about me was "mysterious." I wouldn't call myself mysterious. Far from it! I would call myself bland, boring, uneventful, weird maybe, but definitely not mysterious. But this person told me something like they know things about me but then there's like there's more out of reach that I don't share. I was surprised to hear this, not because it's not true (I know this about myself) but mostly because I thought I hid it pretty well. I think that with most people they are too busy sharing about themselves that they don't really take the time to notice it's a lot more one sided than it appears. Not that I don't care. I guess it's just easier for me to be the friend who cares and listens, and just never gets much of a turn. Or never takes much of a turn.
I think the part the hit home the most, that really hit a sore spot for me, was after Charlie told Sam about how he loved her, and she told him she doesn't feel any of that because he won't let it out. He can't keep all these things in his head, but had to start taking action. It kind of reminds me of this Motion City Soundtrack lyric I can't completely remember, something about discovering I cared a little too much for friends but not enough to share. I worry that I do this. I worry that I have all this living inside my head and I care, but people don't know. And they don't know what I am really like. And I worry that those things that I feel are so obvious, that I feel come bursting out of my skin because I feel them so much, just aren't making an impact.
Actions are hard. As someone prone to thinking a lot, doing a little, and then thinking a whole lot more, the doing seems so much bigger than it might actually be. When I think for days over what to say in an email, I take 10 minutes to write the email, and then agonize for days over all the ways the email could be taken, it makes that email seem like life or death - every wonderful thing that could be won or lost is hanging on that one email. When in reality it's probably not that big of a thing to the recipient.
I really needed this book this weekend. I needed to connect with someone (even fictional) that was in the same melancholy space I was in this week. I think I needed to work through some things I couldn't reach without help. Maybe it was totally random that I decided to read this book now. Maybe my subconscious remembered the movie better than I do and knew I needed this story now. Who knows? But I needed to here those words. And I also need to participate more. I've known this for awhile and I've been trying. But it's about trying harder. Or sometimes just trying at all.
