If what one finds is made of pure matter, it will never spoil. And one can always come back. If what you had found was only a moment of light, like the explosion of a star, you would find nothing on your return.

-- Paulo Coehlo

Let him who would move the world, first move himself -- Socrates

I just finished reading this book, the heart is a lonely hunter, by Carson McCullers.  I didn't think the writing was that amazing (especially not compared to another book I am currently reading.  For some beautiful descriptive writing, check out the god of small things by Arundhati Roy -- just gorgeous. I fell in love with this book when I was in eighth grade) but the meaning of the book definitely got me started thinking.

The book is set in the late 1930s in a southern town.  Basically, there are two deaf-mute friends, Singer and Spiros.  Singer is a thin, quiet, intelligent man and Spiros is a dumb big glutton of a man, interested in mostly food and alcohol.  Singer bends over backwards for his friend -- he imagines Spiros understands him when he speaks with his hands although Spiros never responds and, to any onlookers, obviously doesn't ken whats going on.

Anyway, Spiros ends up in an insane asylum cause he goes beserk and starts doing crazy shit -- walking around naked, peeing on banks, stealing, etc.  Singer pays for all of it, loses his life savings, but still, feels incredibly attached to Spiros, so attached that he visits him twice a year at the asylum. Meanwhile, Singer has attracted four people within the town - a black doctor, a drunk commie, a thoughtful restaurant owner, and a teenage girl whose house he boards in.  The four go to visit Singer at various times, just to sit there and talk to him - he can read lips.  Sometimes he replies through writing, sometimes he just listens.

Anyway, the four project their own image of who he is onto him.  Two of them even get into a fight -- one says he is Jewish, the other says he is clearly anglo-saxon irish.  Singer is drastically different to each of them, but an idol to all of them -- and they each feel that he deeply understands them.  However, when the author moves into the mind of Singer, it's clear that although he listens to them, he doesn't really feel the deep connection the four feel they make with him.  Meanwhile, Singer is feeling this deep connection with Spiros which Spiros, in turn, does not return.

It just made me think.  The four believing themselves close to Singer, Singer feeling close to Spiros, although none of these emotions were returned -- how often do we have an image of someone, believe we share a relationship with someone, and we're all wrong?  The four of them needed to feel connected to singer, feel understood by *at least one other person* cause most of the time they felt SO alone and they chose Singer because they thought he was different, he was special, and the whole time, he was privy to the same emotions concerning his relationship with Spiros.

In the end, Singer goes to visit Spiros and finds out his friend is dead.  He returns home and kills himself.  The four are lost now, even more than they were before Singer.  Or maybe just as lost as they were when they knew singer, only now it is evident to them, also.

When I first thought about, it seemed sad to me that they believed so strongly in Singer because they needed to feel understood.  Throughout the book, they each practically lived for these visits with Singer; because he was so quiet, a deaf-mute, unable to really answer any of their quesetions, they were able to shape him into who they individually wanted him to be, get the answers they wanted to hear.  And Singer in turn was so ready to believe that Spiros was intelligent and really cared about Singer, when it was soo heartrendinginly obvious that he didn't.  It was sad they all got by living for those visits with each other - the four with Singer, Singer with Spiros - so sad that they needed someone to understand so badly.  But isn't that what we all need, I guess?  The assurance that someone out there understands and cares, even if we have to trick ourselves into believing it? 

Except for Spiros, Spiros didn't give a damn about anything besides food and alcohol.  I don't know.  The time in between those visits, wasted as they wished for the moments to pass so they could see Singer again, or so Singer could see Spiros again -- I hope I never waste any amount of my life like that.

I can't even really compose my thoughts on this book.  One second, it just seems so sad and melancholy and forlorn.  And then the next, it's beautiful how we all interact, how good a job this book did at pointing that out.  I mean, if it makes you happy to think a certain way about me, then good for you, if that helps you function better as a person, helps you live your life more successfully, right?  Right?  I dunno it just got me thinking about connections with people, really connecting, and being alone.  The heart is a lonely hunter.  It's true, in a way.

I'm gonna be thinking about this sucker for a while.  And yeah, I know I devoted the longest ass xanga entry to a book that probably no one else has read, and that's fine.  I don't expect to get too many responses but that's fine, too.  I definitely write in this xanga purely for the sake of putting my thoughts down, not to chronicle my daily events.  And most of the stuff I think isn't really appropriate for me to put on the internet, so this is a really watered down version of Char.  Oh well.  Maybe I'll start writing more mindless entries.  Maybe I'll stop writing.  Who knows. Sometimes it's great to have absolutely no plans at all.

The sunset was amazing again this evening.  The sky was like a rose explosion, and edges of the clouds were tinted pink.  Real pretty.  I feel so small out here, I love it.  I'm all laidback, I sat and watched America's Funniest Home Videos with my dad on the patio tonight.  I don't have to be the best here, I don't have to make myself stand out or be drastically different, I just fit.  It makes me think I'm just one star in the night sky.  I don't know why I find that so calming and comforting.  For the time being, I am content being part of the bigger picture.  My day to shine, to be the big picture, will come, I don't have to rush that.

And isn't it amazing, we are all just big pictures that make up an even bigger picture?  Like one of those mosaic puzzles -- that's all we are, building up and up into something greater and bigger than we can ever imagine.  And it's amazing and beautiful.  And I definitely think I need to be asleep now that I'm spouting stuff like this. Gnight.

Tonight the sky was all clouded over, dark clouds, rain clouds, except for this one patch of bright blue sky where the clouds hadn't covered up.  And the sun had lit up part of this one white cloud, the rest of it was hidden behind the dark ones. Anyways, the wind was blowing, the storm was moving in, and I went outside to mess with the sprinkers and my hair was blowing around all over the place.  I couldn't see, I had hair in my mouth, my eyes, my nose.  And after I had fixed the sprinkler, I brushed my hands off and put them on my hips and just looked. 

And it was so pretty.  There was my land, my house, the clouds, the sky, the storm... it was amazing.  Extraordinary.  I was awestruck, I think that's the word.  It made me think of the last night in Boston, standing by all these apt complexes and the skyscrapers in the city towering above us.  And I realized, in Boston I was always surrounded by the wonders of man, you know?  Big buildings, man's lofty achievements, yada yada yada.

But out here, out in the middle of nowhere, there isn't really a sign of civilization, you know?  I mean, besides the houses.  And the lights.  And all the engineers' bmws.  Haha ok.  But honestly, I was struck tonight by the power of nature, the raw strength of something besides humans, the natural beauty of the world, and it just reminded me of... I don't know, how I'm just one tiny person in the big make of things.  And sometimes that's nice to know.  I felt so small, so insignificant beside that crazy wind, the pounding rain, the rolling clouds, the thunder.... I just wanted to stand there, my hair blowing in the wind, a tiny figure set against this backdrop of the rolling earth and the violent sky....

My heart is so at peace sometimes, it's amazing.  as boring as home is sometimes, I'm glad to be here.  I think that my life is gonna speed up and before I know it, I'll be graduated, living on my own, working a job, or maybe in more school.  But I'll be able to look back at this summer and be glad that I spent this time with my family getting to know them all over again.  I'll be sooo glad that i got to just sit with them in silence and watch tv, or drink and talk on the patio... even just sitting in the back seat looking out the car window at alabama rolling by when we're driving... yeah I'm going to look back and be glad that I spent this summer at home for the rest of my life. 

How amazing it is to grow and live with the people who mean the most to you in the world.  I am so lucky, so blessed for having such a family.  We're each guilty of so much, having done so many stupid wretchdd things, but we still love each other more than life itself.

Hah.  I'm happy, with two p's.