Complexity

As defined by dictionary.com it is "the state or quality of being complex" not quite as defining as I had hoped, to find something more of value I quickly clicked, following the link to complex I found the information I sought. Complex: 1. composed of many interconnected parts, compound, composite. 2. characterized by very complicated or involved arrangement of parts. 3 so complicated or intricate as to be hard to understand or ordeal with. 


This differs so greatly from how I feel about myself. I'm as easy to read as this post. My uncharismatic illness of word-vomit has the truth spilling from my lips; my knee-jerk response to shout out honesty makes me fairly simple, child's play, as readable as any old book nuzzled warmly upon your shelf. However, complex is a word I've been getting quite frequently these days much to my dismay. But how does one go about clearing up a misconception of that sort? To change the mind of one person is a challenging task, it requires much time and energy but to clear up this idea that has spread like wild fire to the minds of many, where to start, the task seems almost as over whelming as finding the drive to title and start a new blog. (Anyone who's sat in the same room with me can attest to the struggle of this task, not because I have a lack of words, believe you-me I always have words I just don't always have order or tack) Where does a misconception like that grow roots, how could one miss seeing the sprout that began to take life from said roots and give birth to this Redwood of misunderstanding, mistruth. According to my mathematics teacher one counterexample will disprove an entire theory. So glass of water in hand I brave this task.


Glass on counter, head in hand some 30 seconds later I'm not sure if I'm ready to slay the dragon. All people have complexities, all people have things about them leaving others sitting back with puzzled brows, wondering what could possibly be going on inside said person's mind's eye. That's the the way as humans we were designed. All the same, I feel as though it's simple to forget that complex is not always complicated and herein lies the breakthrough of my thoughts. Admittedly I'll say I am complex, I have intricate wires on the circuit board dwelling inside me. But complicated? Far from it, lies are complicated, those hiding things, quickly become complicated. Complications come from the struggle to keep lies from tangling. As previously mentioned in another blog "I like to keep it simple, bunt and as classy as possible." In other words, just believe what I say and I'll make a lot more since to you, words don't get lost in truth. Truth, isn't complicated, it's not hard, it's the same each time it's repeated, echoing it's comfort and simplicity. Truth is simple, I believe in simple, from the beginning, no confusion, no complications. I'll won't lie this in and of it's self resounds the statement I am complex, but never complicated. 


And so sets in the boredom of this topic. hmmm on to more musings. This week I've learned quite a bit outside the classroom, as well, as much more inside the classroom. But the event this reporter would like to be covered would be that of the list. Yes, the list. At the beginning of the semester I made this list, it wasn't fancy, if I recall correctly in didn't even have a title, which says quite a bit since I have a love of extravagance and a bit of longwindedness when writing, but despite it's lacking aesthetics it held a significance to me. One night unable to fall victim to the sandman's charms I lay in bed, dreaming with eyes wide open of talents I wished to have. Bubbling inside of me were dreams I was afraid would never leave my thoughts, would never become words or actions, dreams that even themselves feared would never reach realities. Well known as a dreamer, with many delusional head-trips that would be long shots from reality I knew their fears were justified. Chastising myself as one who would always be full of good intentions on a road marked to nowhere marching on in rhythmic steps following a pattern of let down excuses as to why these dreams stay on clouds and while I marched, thud thud, thud, to a gloomy fate with many wanted ways left untrodden. I jumped out of bed in a desperate attempt to chase away the dread of past habits and to turn over a new leaf. A new green, thriving leaf of possibilities. So I made this list, on the back of what I believe was an old homework or pre-homework to-do list. Easy to see, the list was soon forgotten laid upon heaps of unsorted documents, books, jewelry, and pictures that littered my desk. While the paper list faded away my subconscious still held it's words. During the course of this semester while trying to find my self, (while not entirely lost) I began to make better time for things, tried to become who I knew with effort I could be, who I am. Trying things that usually never leave my mind, creating pictures, painting, making little do-dads, and trinkets, writing more, trying more, changing more. A day or so ago doing... I'm not altogether sure what, my eyes fell on that folded over sheet. Overcome with the sporadic excitement I get over the seemingly mundane yet meaningful to me things, I read over this small little list and realized that almost every task on there, save a few had been accomplished and tried. A feeling of joy and gratitude filled my heart, knowning that I'd been given those chances and done those things. It doesn't seem very note-worthy but to me it stood as a start, a beginning to something grand.


The last thing I'm going to discuss is one of much fame, one that is here by popular demand the Pomagranite Lamentation. As of now it is to no ones surprise that I love to try new things. I've began walking a new way to class since midterms, and tried to work in little changes in easy places to fit them in around the business which is college. One of these common changes is to try a new Odwalla each time I get one with few exceptions. Through this experiment my love for them has grown exponentially. Having said this there are many of you who are probably like "ah, I see where this is heading Pomagranite Lamentation she's had a bad experience, but should that be enough to make the blog?" A resounding yes, and once the tale unfolds, much to your own horror you will find that yes, here is where this story needs to reside. and so the story begins... It was a chilly day in Rexburg Idaho the sun only trying to poke it's head out between snow falls and here we meet the three victims of this appalling memoir. A post dance class trip to the Crossroads for some snack-age is where this boarder line sunny day gets EVEN colder. (Imagine that...) After some rad Chinese food, accompanied by a rather insightful fortune cookie the thirst sets in.  We'd already finished one Odwalla, it was good but after dancing one can become quite parched, once the debate was settled we'd get another a notion crossed my mind, a friend of a friend (not exactly the best source but still I trusted in my naivety and love of juice) a while back had suggested the Pomagranite. We made the final decisions and anticipation set in. When the Odwalla arrived I became skeptical, all the other juices I'd tried at least had be known to me there taste blended with that of others was still recognizable. I knew of what to expect and here was this pomigrantie I'd only heard of, so foreign. Somehow I had created this thought that it would be sweet, it only took one gulp to inform me that this was in no way the case. In slight disappointed I sought the label to tell me if there was infact something else in it that would cause my reasonless assumption to be wrong. As a vote of the table we decided the cause for the juice's distaste would be explained by the chokeberry, since one of the tasters was well acquainted with the Pomigranite, and still did not quite have a smile about the above mentioned juice tried. The smell is something to be note, it's late so I will not begin to hunt for words to describe this smell it is one to be experienced not re-told,but quite similar to that of dirt. Even though my heart had what is now referred to as a GIANT frowny face on it, I would not have traded the experience of Odwalla#10+, pomigranite for anything. Good, bad, revolting, funny, sweet, embarrassing; doesn't matter, I like to give it a try. You'll never know if you don't, and you can never tell when you'll fall in love with, or hate it if you don't let it walk with you down the block. and either way the memories are typically those that are not easily forgotten. Embrace the world, hold it in your arms, but never get too carree'd away.


xo carree