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writerofashes08
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Name: Ashley Renee
Location: Stow, Ohio, United States
Birthday: 7/30/1990
Gender: Female
Interests: Life. People. Nature. Music. Brains.
Expertise: Observation.
Occupation: Student
Message: message me
Member Since:
2/3/2005
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| Well goodness, it has been a fair while since I have logged onto this website. The only reason that really resonates with my departure is that life moves forward and so some things get left behind regardless of intention. Realizing my last entry was over a year ago has definitely put some experiences into perspective. My mother has found a new job and still resides with us in Ohio, I am but one year shy of receiving my college diploma, things are both less and more strained around the house, and I have begun an attempt at my own business, among many other discoveries. This past weekend also marked my first ever truly independent adventure... and it was exhilirating!! I flew out to DC on Thursday to attend my first ever full-fledged conference and give a presentation of my research. Alone. Not one for the spotlight, this was incredibly intimidating until my poster was all set up and people began wandering over for more info. Quite honestly it was probably one of the most enjoyable experiences of my life. Exploring the city, hearing gods (and goddesses) of the psychology world speaking, and realizing that this is what life could be like.... amazing. Purely wonderful. And I am blessed enough to head out to DC again in August with some friends and colleagues (so bizarre using that word as an undergrad!) and present research we all conducted this past semester. (Perhaps once more in November if I can swing it!) The personal changes I have gone through and all the crazy life moments of this past year and threeish months are without a doubt the most cherished aspects of this/that life. My only true dismay is that I feel as though my more philosophical/romantic/idealistic/dreamy side has shrunk in order for scientific thinking to emerge. Which is silly really, since at one point science was more philosophical than experimental. In my lack of knowledge regarding my future self, I feel as though currently both extremes of my mind/personality have been reached regarding philosophy vs. science, and hopefully soon will come a time when a median is reached on that continuum. So really, there appears to be no focus of this post, other than getting reaquainted with the site and all it's fancy upgrades. Until next time! | | |
| For the longest time I have wondered why my parents married. Was it really for love, or just to provide their child a stable family life for those formative years. I often wondered if they would ever end up divorcing, not really surprising myself when the answer would sometimes be yes. I kept telling myself I wouldn't be surprised if this happened. They lack communication. What sort of marriage can survive without communication, for goodness sakes? I cannot recall ever thinking "Wow, my parents truly love and care for one another," or "Wow, my parents seem happy right now." But (almost) never have I questioned their love for me. Well, this possibility has now presented itself. I'm fairly certain that had my mother approached the topic more tactfully I would not be so out of sorts, but alas. That was not the case. Honestly, I don't even know what she means. Saturday afternoon she called me downstairs, asking if my major (Neuroscience) would be considered a cognitive science while looking at the NC State website. She then proceeds to tell me that "if [her] job interview on Wednesday doesn't pan out, [she's] leaving."  I then ask her if she's discssed this with my father (he had told me she mentioned this in passing one night after work, but that's all), to which she replied in the affirmative. I then asked if they actually discussed it beyond her telling him she wants to leave if this interview doesn't work out, to which she of course replied in the negative. "THAT'S NOT A DISCUSSION!!" I barely refrained from... stating in a forceful, none too happy manner. She has even gone so far as to contact relations in NC who have apparently offered her a place to stay should she end up down there. Yet none of this has been an actual discussion between she and my father. I asked my father why he did not confront her about it and he provides no response, just gestures and body language signaling that he just doesn't really want to. So I took it upon myself to attempt to confront this situation, as I'm not one to be complacent with not knowing motivations/reasons if I can help it. Most difficult to stomach was her answer to my question: "Do you realize that this decision affects more than just yourself? It affects both dad and me." "Yes well. We're all adults here. It's not like there are any little children around that I need to take care of. You and dad are adults. You can take care of yourselves." Thanks mom. Goodness me words cannot express just how badly I wanted to freak out right then. A few more questions are asked, tears ensue, dad walks in gets all upset that mom is crying, conversation over. I shower. I cry. I think. How selfish of me to think she would stick around, that she should stick around. How horrible I am for not showing as much compassion as I perhaps should, because she has done nothing to attempt to change what is happening at work to put her in such a state. She has switched places of employment more times than I can recollect, more often than not because she is unhappy there. To her, it is obviously wholly the job that is causing her such grief and unhappiness, and nothing on her part could possibly be at fault. "I can't change who I am. People just can't. It's not possible." But... how am I to know anything if I am never told in the first place? And what the hell does leaving even mean? Leaving as in you'll be in NC and we'll be here? or Leaving as in we'll no longer legally be a family you want a divorce and to escape everything? What the fuck do you mean? Speak!! For goodness sakes.... speak. | | |
| Hate.
You Hate.
Your derogatory sexist-leftist-rightist-racist
Fuck this fuck that
Discompassionate statements
Frustrate. Speak.
You don't Speak.
You Rage.
Not against the dying of the light
But at those who hear it every night
hour
minute
Yet you do nothing.
Change nothing. I'm tired.
They're tired.
He
She
We
It
Everyone is tired. Aren't you tired? Human nature at its... finest
Auto-pilot
Auto-blame
Auto-Hate
Is it really so fine? Responsibility.
Do you take it?
Have you even heard the old cliche
"Life is what you make it"?
Would that make a difference? Sometimes, I'm ashamed to say you're mine.
And that's not fine. With your fuck this fuck that
Before and After
I get my news from the television media is always right
Living. In love with the concept of personal change
Yet unwilling to commit the time and energy.
It is a good thought
But after all
Why should you put in any effort?
No one else ever does. {sigh} So you Hate.
Your derogatory sexist-leftist-rightist-racist
Discompassionate statements
Spawn Hate. | | |
| Why are we so attached to our name? Or is it really that our name is attached to us? I suppose it depends on the point of view. Are we our name, or is our name us? Perhaps it is neither and both.
What does a name really tell you about someone, aside from what they are called? It almost seems like an insight to the parent, not the person. A name alone cannot tell us anything, likes or dislikes, quirks, interests, thoughts, ideas, beliefs, appearance. A name by itself does not tell much. If anything, it could cause us to associate past experiences with another of a same name, though they are two completely different people.
So why this attachment? Perhaps there is a subconscious feeling that our name is a gift from our parents, and therefore is important. Or maybe we were named after someone and in that is a sense of pride. I do not know.
Perhaps our name is important for identity's sake. It gives others the ability to identify and discern while we have the ability to be identified. Acknowledged. Perhaps it provides a sense of belonging, having others know and call your name. Perhaps it is important to provide a name for the memories. Perhaps a name is most important for communication with and between others.
Robert Wuthrow argues that identity is something "achieved rather than ascribed to us". Therefore, our names, our most recognizable and yet wholly ascribed identifier lends very little to our identity. Who we really are. If that is truly the case, then why do we rely on something so impersonally personal? (Or would that be personally impersonal? I think it's the first. Anywho.) If you view your name (name meaning first, not whole, as introductions rarely are by full name anymore) as your personal identity, how identifying can it truly be, especially if you have a common name?
Perhaps this attachment is something as simple as a want for recognition, to be recognized by others, and a name is the easiest and most direct means to give and be given it. Or maybe it is just because that is the one thing whih has been associated with us and which we associate with ourselves; of course, that also ties in with ease of recognition. Maybe that's it then. To be able to file something--or someone--away and give it distinction.
Though a name is usually associated with a face, and so because of that a whole new world of observations emerge. Perhaps that, then, is the importance of names. When a name has a face, or a face a name, somehow connections become more intimate and you begin to care, even if just fractionally more. Acctions suddenly matter. Feelings matter. Perhaps we need names to maintain some sense of morality. Who knows. | | |
| I don't even know what to say here. There's just this overwhelming need/want/something to talk about everything and nothing, though I have little to say. To lay in a field, imagining cloud shapes. To bike through a forest at dusk. To take a canoe into the middle of a lake and just...be. To get lost. To feel. Escape the cage of self, if only for a moment. To experience. To experiment. Just do be create exist harmonise fight free alight explore discover learn teach change. | | |
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