I feel like I'm nit-picking at a whole stretch of skin. Except of dealing with dry skin, I am dealing with a personality that just doesn't work.
How do I properly vocalize that I am not even living my own life? For the longest time, I was thinking I was just plain depressed and didn't know what to do. Yet now I am thinking, no, I know what I want to do. But there is something that I keep falling back into. Maybe it is a habit, or a well-trained person. Just the good little girl that was expected of me.
Good god, if I was supposed to be someone's tool, then I'd rather be dead than to have someone else take over my mind.
F--k culture trying to brainwash kids into being the images that their parents want them to be. Gender-typifying, stereotyping standards, ect. It is enough to make me want to go screaming around in the stores cursing their intrusive advertising attacks. I can't even shop any more.
To be with my boyfriend or certain groups of friends, I feel awake, more myself than I ever have been. But the moment I go into "normal" situations, I feel the pressure of being plain boxy normal.
There is a reason that part of my depression has included anger. I HATE being pressured into being something that I am not.
There is so much ignorance, uneducated, and underdeveloped people who run on insufficient information. And to be dealing with the lack of their curiosity kills me. How do you not want to understand even just a few things about your life? Why live the life that someone else has prescribed for you? Does it even work for you? What makes you think that your diet is sufficient and will make you a healthy and efficient human being?
And to acknowledge my own laziness is beyond frustrating. I live in two realities with two personalities, and right now it is bothering the cr-p out of me. I feel as though my therapist talks down to me, saying I am "a good, sweet, innocent young lady".
A. Suggesting I am good, means that you will react negatively if I were to voice my anger and things that I would otherwise not tell my parents.
B. Fuck being sweet. I don't want to be sweet. I want to be taken seriously you old geezer.
C. Innocent? Naive? Maybe a bit because I haven't been in certain circumstances, but it does not make me an idiot. And I am certainly more aware then some dumb-asses out there in the world.
D. Are you suggesting that I know absolutely nothing?
E. Fuck you, that sounds insulting. Why can't I just be a woman? Do you see yourself as someone above me?
This pisses me off, and the fact that I act differently in two different arenas. I fucking hate that I can't speak out loud the way I want to. Why can't I just get down to the nitty-gritty? I do NOT want to fucking talk about the damn circles that I have talked about before. I am done with that part of my life. You are making me relive something I have already forgiven and forgotten and have moved on in my life.
I am pissed off more at the fact that I have to listen to your assumptions. We haven't even gotten to the good part yet, why are you jumping down my throat?
I want my own god-damned life, and at 23, I'd say it's long overdue for a teenage rebellion. Fuck being the good little girl. I've grown up and changed. It's about time that my surroundings have done the same.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Floating Into View
It has been too long since the last blog. Yet there has not been very much going on.
Or at least, there is far too much of living in the moment that I keep forgetting how much I enjoy reflecting on things.
What does come into my mind on a regular basis is my unusual need for a systematical complex challenge. Something that is equivalent to completing a 20 x 20 times table in my head. Great for falling asleep and concentrating my mind, but the need to have something a bit more tangible to inspire me. Two years ago I managed to create a level system so that I could encourage myself to complete certain chores. Yes, a level system as in levels 1 - 99 with an x amount of experience to learn within each level. There is a mathematical obsession that I have been trying to tame, but it bothers me to the point that I have to complete it. The attention to every single detail to craft a one whole great piece. The tedium that allows me to become so focused that I do not need to worry about every other thing that is passing by me.
Thanks to this desire, I have a few books on physics and calculus that I need to read. And I mean need, like if I don't do something mathematical at some point in my life, I will get a little loopy. It is like music, the heart of me that fuels my life. Math is the logic that I have tried to cling to even though it drifted from my grasp. I hunger for it like a young girl lost in her first major crush.
Maybe the new med is making me a little flighty. Or maybe the small performance on Saturday finally kick-started that one thing within me that I've been trying to find this entire time.
I'm not quite sure myself, but time will tell.
Or at least, there is far too much of living in the moment that I keep forgetting how much I enjoy reflecting on things.
What does come into my mind on a regular basis is my unusual need for a systematical complex challenge. Something that is equivalent to completing a 20 x 20 times table in my head. Great for falling asleep and concentrating my mind, but the need to have something a bit more tangible to inspire me. Two years ago I managed to create a level system so that I could encourage myself to complete certain chores. Yes, a level system as in levels 1 - 99 with an x amount of experience to learn within each level. There is a mathematical obsession that I have been trying to tame, but it bothers me to the point that I have to complete it. The attention to every single detail to craft a one whole great piece. The tedium that allows me to become so focused that I do not need to worry about every other thing that is passing by me.
Thanks to this desire, I have a few books on physics and calculus that I need to read. And I mean need, like if I don't do something mathematical at some point in my life, I will get a little loopy. It is like music, the heart of me that fuels my life. Math is the logic that I have tried to cling to even though it drifted from my grasp. I hunger for it like a young girl lost in her first major crush.
Maybe the new med is making me a little flighty. Or maybe the small performance on Saturday finally kick-started that one thing within me that I've been trying to find this entire time.
I'm not quite sure myself, but time will tell.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Imaginary Boundries
I trap myself in my own fears.
What should be used as bridges, is broken down into planks for walls within walls.
Thankfully I now have broken down several layers of walls that I can finally see outside. But what is outside is so fascinating and confusing that the older me is trying to rebuild. It takes extra effort for me to relax and let go of my consuming general anxiety.
So to stop these walls from rising up, and to move on from this gridlock, I often try to find an outside force or perspective to get me out. Video games sometimes help, friends also give a better perspective. Getting outside of the house is imperative. Incense is relieving as well as transcending literature and music.
Really what I crave for is mediation on a regular basis. But the rooms are too active, and the heat is bothering me right now. I know if I did it at home, there would always be the chance of an interruption.
Too many thoughts are interrupting my mind, that I try to find my mathematical solace, within details. May it be trying to itemize things or trying my best at the multiplication table (20x20), I look for order.
I want to reach the most common denominator in the world around me and focus on that. Which I find to be love and music. From there I determine what works best for me.
I am keeping it simple and orderly for myself so that I can go best in whatever way my life indicates to go. But not in a swimming way with societal measures. By listening to the heartbeat within, I can go with what naturally comes to me.
For boundaries fall by the persistent force of unity.
What should be used as bridges, is broken down into planks for walls within walls.
Thankfully I now have broken down several layers of walls that I can finally see outside. But what is outside is so fascinating and confusing that the older me is trying to rebuild. It takes extra effort for me to relax and let go of my consuming general anxiety.
So to stop these walls from rising up, and to move on from this gridlock, I often try to find an outside force or perspective to get me out. Video games sometimes help, friends also give a better perspective. Getting outside of the house is imperative. Incense is relieving as well as transcending literature and music.
Really what I crave for is mediation on a regular basis. But the rooms are too active, and the heat is bothering me right now. I know if I did it at home, there would always be the chance of an interruption.
Too many thoughts are interrupting my mind, that I try to find my mathematical solace, within details. May it be trying to itemize things or trying my best at the multiplication table (20x20), I look for order.
I want to reach the most common denominator in the world around me and focus on that. Which I find to be love and music. From there I determine what works best for me.
I am keeping it simple and orderly for myself so that I can go best in whatever way my life indicates to go. But not in a swimming way with societal measures. By listening to the heartbeat within, I can go with what naturally comes to me.
For boundaries fall by the persistent force of unity.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
In Tune with the Melody
Quiet.
Just stop.
Breathe.
Where are you thoughts?
Where are you?
Can you hear the music of your soul? The rhythm of your heart?
What song is your life?
No I'm not talking about the Facebook notes where you make up the soundtrack of your life. Not even words can totally encompass each part of your life.
Each moment is like being caught in a trance of an unheard song. Emotions rise and fall as the crescendos in the piece. Seconds slow down into a legato whole note, gently roaring over the tension of stress. Your body is meant to react, no, to dance in tempo to this piece heard only by you.
If life can be like a radio, and pick up on waves of sounds, it would be easier to explain. For now I must leave the description to merely be the distinction of living in the moment, getting caught in the past, or racing too far into the future. Yet I also know what it means to be living in a different place than where I currently am. What would normally be called a rainy day, I call it my English home. Or the moment I get caught in a deja vu, it is that one afternoon at home, in the kitchen, listening to NPR while working on my math homework.
Even if these count as being in the moment, I brand these moments as reoccurring themes. They are the melodic patterns that weave my life into a complex and developing piece.
Writing songs sometimes proves difficult. Sometimes the words come first. Sometimes the melody. If I get lucky, I manage to have my guitar in hand with a notebook lies nearby. At least then I can jot down the chords and words as soon as I can grasp them out of the air. As long as I leave a chord progression, I can figure out the melody that I had wove.
Surprisingly, I have actually gathered a few number of songs that are willing to become harmonies to my life. They capture moments in my life that I want to preserve. Emotions may be fluid, but on paper they become immobilized.
As I start to review my files, these songs allow me to give more depth and insight to those fleeting moments. Though I have always been shy to edit my own poems, songs give me more time. Unlike the words that I allow to pour out of me, the structured forms give a formal beginning and end. Each piece is separate from each other, though akin. Music acts like a family to me, whilst prose is one and the same.
I would dare to say that the true melody of my life lies within prose as music accompanies it into a more diverse and complete one.
Therefore my talents depend on each other. To live to the fullest, I need to compose to the fullest. Writing is the structure, music the energy, and acting the articulation of life.
Just stop.
Breathe.
Where are you thoughts?
Where are you?
Can you hear the music of your soul? The rhythm of your heart?
What song is your life?
No I'm not talking about the Facebook notes where you make up the soundtrack of your life. Not even words can totally encompass each part of your life.
Each moment is like being caught in a trance of an unheard song. Emotions rise and fall as the crescendos in the piece. Seconds slow down into a legato whole note, gently roaring over the tension of stress. Your body is meant to react, no, to dance in tempo to this piece heard only by you.
If life can be like a radio, and pick up on waves of sounds, it would be easier to explain. For now I must leave the description to merely be the distinction of living in the moment, getting caught in the past, or racing too far into the future. Yet I also know what it means to be living in a different place than where I currently am. What would normally be called a rainy day, I call it my English home. Or the moment I get caught in a deja vu, it is that one afternoon at home, in the kitchen, listening to NPR while working on my math homework.
Even if these count as being in the moment, I brand these moments as reoccurring themes. They are the melodic patterns that weave my life into a complex and developing piece.
Writing songs sometimes proves difficult. Sometimes the words come first. Sometimes the melody. If I get lucky, I manage to have my guitar in hand with a notebook lies nearby. At least then I can jot down the chords and words as soon as I can grasp them out of the air. As long as I leave a chord progression, I can figure out the melody that I had wove.
Surprisingly, I have actually gathered a few number of songs that are willing to become harmonies to my life. They capture moments in my life that I want to preserve. Emotions may be fluid, but on paper they become immobilized.
As I start to review my files, these songs allow me to give more depth and insight to those fleeting moments. Though I have always been shy to edit my own poems, songs give me more time. Unlike the words that I allow to pour out of me, the structured forms give a formal beginning and end. Each piece is separate from each other, though akin. Music acts like a family to me, whilst prose is one and the same.
I would dare to say that the true melody of my life lies within prose as music accompanies it into a more diverse and complete one.
Therefore my talents depend on each other. To live to the fullest, I need to compose to the fullest. Writing is the structure, music the energy, and acting the articulation of life.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Dreams vs. Reality
What do you do when reality falters in the face of dreams that seem even more real? At some point my dreams have surpassed my own sense of reality. More faces and events happen than what I manage to do in my own time. Perhaps it is time to admit my own addiction.
I, Sarah, am addicted to an interesting life. Comfortability is stifling, and I too often fight back with stubborn quietness. In short, I allow myself to suffer in mundane habits. It all becomes a spring for when my life starts its unexpected roller coaster. Even then, I struggle to place an improbable balance between the climax of the situation and the comforting calm of indifference.
It is the habit of making mountains out of mole hills.
Entirely my own fault.
So I have settled on a compromise. To halt the static death of so-called reality and to reel in the dreams I have caught over the years. It is time to meet them past half-way.
I have made plans over the years and it's time to finally execute them. There is no way I could life a life of "normalcy". The 9-5 or the average jobs out there in the economy. There are plenty other people who can do the job that I currently do, and enjoy the balance between that work and their lives. I like to invest my time differently.
So I will live up to the promises and dreams I have wove.
For although reality is the current situation, dreams are the inspiration and hope that drives us to try harder.
Perhaps I have been living in the moment more often, and so I can feel how tangible the dreams are now. Their breaths tease me into an intoxication of excitement. Ghostly hands guide me through my dull-white days and my room to a state of organization and action.
Reality is the state of the world and the beings within it. Notsomuch the state of the society and the people within.
Invest in the reality of living rather than the reality of existence. We should be beyond the question of "What is life?" We should be focusing on "How do we live?" only to follow it later in life with "Why do we live?" (Unless you know your answer already.)
How do we get from where we are now to what we perceive as possible? What do we need to change? Can we change it? How do we do so?
My issue is that I have so many dreams that I tend to not know where to start. But in recent events, I have noticed that I do have the ability to make the changes in my life necessary to the development to the life that I want to live. Part of my difficulty is admitting that there are specific things that I want to do that I know would require very difficult changes. But I have the motivation now. What is left is the declaration of my intent.
And this is something I need to meditate on just a tad more.
I, Sarah, am addicted to an interesting life. Comfortability is stifling, and I too often fight back with stubborn quietness. In short, I allow myself to suffer in mundane habits. It all becomes a spring for when my life starts its unexpected roller coaster. Even then, I struggle to place an improbable balance between the climax of the situation and the comforting calm of indifference.
It is the habit of making mountains out of mole hills.
Entirely my own fault.
So I have settled on a compromise. To halt the static death of so-called reality and to reel in the dreams I have caught over the years. It is time to meet them past half-way.
I have made plans over the years and it's time to finally execute them. There is no way I could life a life of "normalcy". The 9-5 or the average jobs out there in the economy. There are plenty other people who can do the job that I currently do, and enjoy the balance between that work and their lives. I like to invest my time differently.
So I will live up to the promises and dreams I have wove.
For although reality is the current situation, dreams are the inspiration and hope that drives us to try harder.
Perhaps I have been living in the moment more often, and so I can feel how tangible the dreams are now. Their breaths tease me into an intoxication of excitement. Ghostly hands guide me through my dull-white days and my room to a state of organization and action.
Reality is the state of the world and the beings within it. Notsomuch the state of the society and the people within.
Invest in the reality of living rather than the reality of existence. We should be beyond the question of "What is life?" We should be focusing on "How do we live?" only to follow it later in life with "Why do we live?" (Unless you know your answer already.)
How do we get from where we are now to what we perceive as possible? What do we need to change? Can we change it? How do we do so?
My issue is that I have so many dreams that I tend to not know where to start. But in recent events, I have noticed that I do have the ability to make the changes in my life necessary to the development to the life that I want to live. Part of my difficulty is admitting that there are specific things that I want to do that I know would require very difficult changes. But I have the motivation now. What is left is the declaration of my intent.
And this is something I need to meditate on just a tad more.
Friday, June 15, 2012
The Rush of Stillness
Feet tap rhythmic beats on gravel skin; a drone on a stony heart.
What would have been a morning of rushing to work to discover my laughable earliness was quickly saved by the innate desire to commit my body to that rush of meditation. I thought, maybe I could finally get in that morning run that I have been craving recently.
As it turned out, I saved myself in the nick of time so I could finally grasp that desire. My thoughts echoed the conversations between birds, and the whispers of automobiles. Further inside, images of further desires and needs flashed before me. Running has always granted me that personal space that I enjoy. It grants the ability to become one with the world around me whilst grounding me to my inner core. Feelings that I usually do not make sense of finally morph into a word or phrase.
And always, that moving thoughtfulness reminded me of my eternal search for truth: for the bare facts in the perspective of reality.
More often than not, I find my mind running in directions. Relationships are usually tricky and can be potentially addicting, depending on the personality. Work can be dangerously all-consuming when one lets it (as I am apt to do). And focusing on one aspect of life can be just as complicated and demanding as focusing on every aspect.
At some point I have to detach the mind from the rest of what I am doing. Usually I get frustrated when people tell me to detach from things because I want to be able what to detach from. After all, if I detach from too much, honestly, I find life more worthless. To live with nothing to hold on to is dangerous.
But running is what I use to stabilize my otherwise my overworking brain. Emotions that have been evoked over the past few days simmer in a pot of reflection. My energy burns up the fuel that has been lain down by anxiety. What remains is the ash, or shadow, of my true disposition. Even though I have been going out on dates and kinda pulling my life together, I know that I long for that singular career. The one that lets me live frankly and in the moment.
So I will continue to run and reflect, for nothing is swifter than the lightened foot and mind. And that, in itself, is the art form of moving meditation.
What would have been a morning of rushing to work to discover my laughable earliness was quickly saved by the innate desire to commit my body to that rush of meditation. I thought, maybe I could finally get in that morning run that I have been craving recently.
As it turned out, I saved myself in the nick of time so I could finally grasp that desire. My thoughts echoed the conversations between birds, and the whispers of automobiles. Further inside, images of further desires and needs flashed before me. Running has always granted me that personal space that I enjoy. It grants the ability to become one with the world around me whilst grounding me to my inner core. Feelings that I usually do not make sense of finally morph into a word or phrase.
And always, that moving thoughtfulness reminded me of my eternal search for truth: for the bare facts in the perspective of reality.
More often than not, I find my mind running in directions. Relationships are usually tricky and can be potentially addicting, depending on the personality. Work can be dangerously all-consuming when one lets it (as I am apt to do). And focusing on one aspect of life can be just as complicated and demanding as focusing on every aspect.
At some point I have to detach the mind from the rest of what I am doing. Usually I get frustrated when people tell me to detach from things because I want to be able what to detach from. After all, if I detach from too much, honestly, I find life more worthless. To live with nothing to hold on to is dangerous.
But running is what I use to stabilize my otherwise my overworking brain. Emotions that have been evoked over the past few days simmer in a pot of reflection. My energy burns up the fuel that has been lain down by anxiety. What remains is the ash, or shadow, of my true disposition. Even though I have been going out on dates and kinda pulling my life together, I know that I long for that singular career. The one that lets me live frankly and in the moment.
So I will continue to run and reflect, for nothing is swifter than the lightened foot and mind. And that, in itself, is the art form of moving meditation.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Laying the Cards Out
Secrets, are they really safe anymore?
What used to be buried under layers of paper and twisted lies, now floats to the top of the internet for the rest of the world and businesses to see.
What would I have to hide?
Plenty of things, but one in particular comes to mind. One that has been so predominate in my thinking in the past year and a half.
It has finally come to the point where I am just going to say it, no more mystery, nor wild guesses. My personality is too unique to be place on a normal spectrum.
I don't care who knows.
I am bisexual. Or better yet, pansexual. Any guy, woman, in any shape or form is welcome to my heart. I love for the sake of loving the individual.
I have been living with confusion for a few years. What I have come to learn is that it doesn't matter who you are attracted to, as much as WHY you are attracted to them. Perhaps I have always enjoyed liking who should be forbidden, such as bad guys, villans, and girls. But I have been very humanist in my interests. It doesn't matter if the guy is effeminate or the girl, butch. The point is that they have an attractive personality, and physical features that I admire.
I have learned to love individuals for who they are, and I'll be damned if I can't teach that lesson to others.
I am used to bullying, and I'm willing to live with it for the rest of my life if it means being true to myself.
Forget the normal lines of society, I live the life that I wish to live. And now, I can live with integrity.
I am part of two societies that encourage and support bisexual women. We are not harlots, and we are not indecicive. Love comes to us in whatever way it prefers. I have an intuition that love will come to me in a very unique way.
I watch the people around me grow, and my inspirations give me strength. I have lived in the LGBTQ community longer than I have imagined. I love these communities, and I would protect them with my life. They are my friends, family, and community. I would give my all to give them strength.
That is the click I have belonged to all my life, though never realized it. Sure, I'll bounce around making friends everywhere. But that is my family. They are who I live and breathe for. I cannot change my life without thinking, who will now be my gay/bi/les/queer/trans best friend? Where will I find the people that I am most comfortable with.
What role does theater have in this? If anything, it made me be more true to myself. I do have rather masculine tendencies, but who wouldn't in this day and age? But to crave a feminity in another to firmly establish that yang of masculinity, or even that oppostite feminity is exactly what I have been desiring.
Bring on the hate... I have crushes on Taylor Swift and Rihanna. I think that Robert Downey Jr. is hot... espcially with Jude Law. Sexuality is sexy, and I refuse to back down from this position. I will find love, and I will marry. Will it be a man or woman, I don't care as long as it's passionate and real.
I conduct other blogs for bisexual sites, and will continue to do so till mu love runs dry (which I doubt). Find me on ShyBi or USBiGirls, I will write about my life, and the establishment of a bisexual identity.
This is my first stand against socital standards. And my past reestablishes my future path. So wish me luck or wish me ill, this is the path that I choose to follow. My sexuality is not crucial to my work, but it is crucial to my personality, and I do not wish to underestimate the love I have. This is my chance to find somone who I truely love. And who I will take care off.
I am bi, and you cannot change that.
What used to be buried under layers of paper and twisted lies, now floats to the top of the internet for the rest of the world and businesses to see.
What would I have to hide?
Plenty of things, but one in particular comes to mind. One that has been so predominate in my thinking in the past year and a half.
It has finally come to the point where I am just going to say it, no more mystery, nor wild guesses. My personality is too unique to be place on a normal spectrum.
I don't care who knows.
I am bisexual. Or better yet, pansexual. Any guy, woman, in any shape or form is welcome to my heart. I love for the sake of loving the individual.
I have been living with confusion for a few years. What I have come to learn is that it doesn't matter who you are attracted to, as much as WHY you are attracted to them. Perhaps I have always enjoyed liking who should be forbidden, such as bad guys, villans, and girls. But I have been very humanist in my interests. It doesn't matter if the guy is effeminate or the girl, butch. The point is that they have an attractive personality, and physical features that I admire.
I have learned to love individuals for who they are, and I'll be damned if I can't teach that lesson to others.
I am used to bullying, and I'm willing to live with it for the rest of my life if it means being true to myself.
Forget the normal lines of society, I live the life that I wish to live. And now, I can live with integrity.
I am part of two societies that encourage and support bisexual women. We are not harlots, and we are not indecicive. Love comes to us in whatever way it prefers. I have an intuition that love will come to me in a very unique way.
I watch the people around me grow, and my inspirations give me strength. I have lived in the LGBTQ community longer than I have imagined. I love these communities, and I would protect them with my life. They are my friends, family, and community. I would give my all to give them strength.
That is the click I have belonged to all my life, though never realized it. Sure, I'll bounce around making friends everywhere. But that is my family. They are who I live and breathe for. I cannot change my life without thinking, who will now be my gay/bi/les/queer/trans best friend? Where will I find the people that I am most comfortable with.
What role does theater have in this? If anything, it made me be more true to myself. I do have rather masculine tendencies, but who wouldn't in this day and age? But to crave a feminity in another to firmly establish that yang of masculinity, or even that oppostite feminity is exactly what I have been desiring.
Bring on the hate... I have crushes on Taylor Swift and Rihanna. I think that Robert Downey Jr. is hot... espcially with Jude Law. Sexuality is sexy, and I refuse to back down from this position. I will find love, and I will marry. Will it be a man or woman, I don't care as long as it's passionate and real.
I conduct other blogs for bisexual sites, and will continue to do so till mu love runs dry (which I doubt). Find me on ShyBi or USBiGirls, I will write about my life, and the establishment of a bisexual identity.
This is my first stand against socital standards. And my past reestablishes my future path. So wish me luck or wish me ill, this is the path that I choose to follow. My sexuality is not crucial to my work, but it is crucial to my personality, and I do not wish to underestimate the love I have. This is my chance to find somone who I truely love. And who I will take care off.
I am bi, and you cannot change that.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Getting Lost in the Closet and How to Get Back Out
Closet.
The word conjures up several different images. Skeletons in the closet, cleaning out the closet, coming out of it...
As Peter, Paul, and Mary would put it, it’s what’s inside that really counts. A room is reflective of the individual who lives in it. But if that is so, what does my closet say of me?
Shelf upon shelf is filled with mementos, clothes, and everything else that I could not fit under my bed or in it’s proper home. Plans for the future are cramped into a space with mismatched evidence of my past. Of course, none of it makes sense. Yet, I know the moment that I clean it out, I will see everything clearly. There will be no mystery of my closet left. There will be no more surprises about myself.
In that regard I am what astrology would call a true Pieces: disorganized to the point that it is predictable, relying on intuition and mystery to fuel dwindling inspiration.
I need my closet to be messy, or my bed, or my room. I dislike being so open and apparent. A messy room is a lived-in room. A pristine room is filled with so much potential. But I digress.
The closet.
My bane, but it could be your best friend.The things that matter most are placed forward, your clothes organized in some order that you prefer. Is it organized by every detail, or by generalizations. Such as shirts are shirts, with your favorites closest to the door.
My issue is not the ability to clean my room, I fear what cleaning makes me become. The moment I allow myself to clear this gaping closet, is the moment I release the true perfectionist out. Shirts will be organized by color, length, and type; socks perfectly aligned and separated in a similar fashion; shoes, sandals, and slippers aligned in height and popularity.
And once I conquer the closet, I would have to clean the rest of my room to a similar perfection. My dresser, bookshelf, and CDs will have to suffer a similar fate. Let us not even mention the filing cabinet.
My lack of action is not because of the lack of energy, rather than the containment of personal idiosyncrasies. I know exactly what my closet would reveal. That woman is far more obsessed and exacting than I make myself seem to be. All these past years I have been trying to relax and ridicule myself into a state of Zen-like balance. Learning to take myself less seriously can only go so far, and looking into what I call my core personality may throw me back into my old habits.
No, I do not want to clean out my closet. No, I do not want to revert back into what I was before. I hook myself onto details in order to avoid what I was molding into being; not crafting my own path.
In the meantime, my method of attack is to approach the closet, my mess, my life, with an exact distance of interest. Interest of purging, but an emotional distance to the project. Perhaps there is a name that others use to this method, but I would argue that I hold too much meaning to too many things. Thus I always wait for the right days to clean, or to drop things from my life. Otherwise, I spend hours sitting on the ground reading old notes from middle school, rather than emptying the box in front of me.
No, I have not come across Narnia or dead bodies in my closet. Avoiding the gravitational pull into that black hole is difficult, but the anchor of my real life will always be right by me. There are crumbs leading me back to the moment that I have to leave. Otherwise I will get stuck back in high school, or elementary school. My mess is my creation, and thus of my own madness.
What do you think your closet says of you?
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Because It's All You Need
Yes, love is all you need.
Even when every other person throws it back in your face.
I try to be the person that I want to be: energetic, thoughtful, and positive. One of the benefits of my job is that I get to connect with the customers, and to give them the best possible experience. More than once have I been commented on my smile, which took them off guard. But they then said "God bless you girl" and "Keep smiling". I just keep smiling on the outside, no matter how I feel inside.
In the meantime, I find that romance is surprisingly addicting. For the most part, I'm over my crushes, and I'm pretty firm on the line that I am just happy single. Though it feels like I will be like that for some time.
The amount of romance, in literature, movies, music, ect. is massive. Probably because once it's in the brain, we get addicted to it. Seriously now, as in hormones that are sparked and oxy-something that makes females all giddy inside.
And what an addiction it is.
Even looking forward to a potential date is a trigger for me. I do not have a happy medium when it comes to these types of relationships. And, as ever, it takes a long time to find someone who is interested and wants to persue a relationship with you. I am on the brink of a totally new era for me, so that pool is just a puddle.
As I try to figure things out for myself, I can't help but notice how often I go back to that addiction. But I have no one to be addicted to. There is no person who I crave, that I need, that I want. And it bothers me in some way because I know that at 23, I have 7 years till I start dropping two eggs at a time, thus increasing any brood I make when I'm in my thirties. Of course, half the people I know in my life are either going to be A) married B) engaged C) have kids D) adopt a family and/or E) have grandkids. Then I will be old. If I don't have someone around my thirties, I'll be called a spinster.
But why is it like that? Should I be called a name because there wasn't a half-decent human being with good intentions that wanted to be in a relationship with me that I also wanted to be in a relationship with? That is not being picky, that's being healthy. No thanks, I do not want to be in an abusive relationship. I don't deserve that, just as many other women and men do not deserve that treatment.
Can we stop justifying this addiction, and learn to work around it? Somehow? I'd just like to continue to do my own thing without having to change it because society says so. Where is that person that I can learn to trust and love?
I just have a feeling that I do have a soul mate, but I do not know if they are in this time period right now. This is just a side quest for that path to wholeness. That is, if I don't find it myself on my journey through life.
Even when every other person throws it back in your face.
I try to be the person that I want to be: energetic, thoughtful, and positive. One of the benefits of my job is that I get to connect with the customers, and to give them the best possible experience. More than once have I been commented on my smile, which took them off guard. But they then said "God bless you girl" and "Keep smiling". I just keep smiling on the outside, no matter how I feel inside.
In the meantime, I find that romance is surprisingly addicting. For the most part, I'm over my crushes, and I'm pretty firm on the line that I am just happy single. Though it feels like I will be like that for some time.
The amount of romance, in literature, movies, music, ect. is massive. Probably because once it's in the brain, we get addicted to it. Seriously now, as in hormones that are sparked and oxy-something that makes females all giddy inside.
And what an addiction it is.
Even looking forward to a potential date is a trigger for me. I do not have a happy medium when it comes to these types of relationships. And, as ever, it takes a long time to find someone who is interested and wants to persue a relationship with you. I am on the brink of a totally new era for me, so that pool is just a puddle.
As I try to figure things out for myself, I can't help but notice how often I go back to that addiction. But I have no one to be addicted to. There is no person who I crave, that I need, that I want. And it bothers me in some way because I know that at 23, I have 7 years till I start dropping two eggs at a time, thus increasing any brood I make when I'm in my thirties. Of course, half the people I know in my life are either going to be A) married B) engaged C) have kids D) adopt a family and/or E) have grandkids. Then I will be old. If I don't have someone around my thirties, I'll be called a spinster.
But why is it like that? Should I be called a name because there wasn't a half-decent human being with good intentions that wanted to be in a relationship with me that I also wanted to be in a relationship with? That is not being picky, that's being healthy. No thanks, I do not want to be in an abusive relationship. I don't deserve that, just as many other women and men do not deserve that treatment.
Can we stop justifying this addiction, and learn to work around it? Somehow? I'd just like to continue to do my own thing without having to change it because society says so. Where is that person that I can learn to trust and love?
I just have a feeling that I do have a soul mate, but I do not know if they are in this time period right now. This is just a side quest for that path to wholeness. That is, if I don't find it myself on my journey through life.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Post-Valentines Nerves Part 2
With no one to call my own, how do I manage to move on?
Easy. I focus on what and who I have; my friends, family, and myself. I must do what comes naturally: give love and be honest. Their happiness brings me ease. When their needs are fulfilled, or I have done enough, I must turn to myself.
There was a time when I did not care for my own well-being. Everyone and everything else was held above my own health and success. In a way, that has not left me. To serve is an honor, and to give my time is more precious than receiving pay. Thus my constant addiction to performance is a cocktail drug of servitude and adrenaline.
Still I struggle to find a balance owning my happiness and giving happiness. Solely focusing on myself is boring. It is instant gratification, and too easily solved. I can find happiness where ever I go. That is just in my nature. But to be honest, I find that I do best when I am with others.
My philosophy brings me back to that pendulum, a ying-yang of responsibility. We are only as alone or crowded as we make ourselves. If we wanted to be alone, then we would make that effort to separate ourselves. And too often, people allow us to make those decisions. Even if you wanted to be stopped, your friends will not do anything to make you do otherwise.
And for that reason, I befriend the opposites of me. For the days that I feel easy-going, I enjoy being with my dramatic friends. When I am being grumpy, I enjoy being with my upbeat friends. When I feel a little shy, I make sure that I have a few really outgoing friends.
On the same token, this is why I make sure I have friends that are similar to me. The more stubborn, artistic, dramatic, renaissance, and curious the person, the more I enjoy being with them. I want to find what makes them tick: to make them laugh, to know how much I can tease them, and how to make sure that they don’t make too many bad decisions. Well, at least without me.
My friends remain my best audience, and greatest fans (apart from family). Even if they don’t like my stuff, I give more credit to them if they stay honest with me. Sure I might be a doll, but I can handle rejection, and I can handle criticism . Stubbornness may be my weakness, but its something I am willing to work on.
Friends are more than people to hang out with at a certain time in certain place. To me, friends are keys to the composition of you. They make landmarks on your heart, mind, and body. Sometimes I let a few friends have too much power over me. But when my heart decides to give its love and protection to them, it becomes my mind vs. the heart.
I love my friends, and would pick them up when they are down. I’d be there whenever they wanted me. I give, and give, and give, and give… I give until the relationship is over.
So call me addicted to love, for that might be my greatest weakness. But at least I acknowledge it. For as much as it will make me hurt, it makes life so much more interesting and worth living. I find that giving love freely is healthier than holding all emotions in. And it never hurts to tell your friend, your brother, your family, your lover… “I love you.” If it’s true, then there should be no judgment.
Love should be celebrated all the time, to everyone and yourself. Take time to reflect on your relationships and how they have touched you. For those who hurt you, find forgiveness and seek strength to grow from the experience. For those who are gone, celebrate their life and do them the honor to continue to live yours to the fullest.
Valentines Day is very much over, and passion does tend to ebb out too. But keep the love that you experience in your heart year-round, and you may find out something. That love gives you strength to push yourself to become greater, and to do greater things.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Post-Valentines Nerves Part 1
Oh, hello there!
....
My Valentines day was quite nice, thank you. :-)
.....
Oh, I just went to the gym, bought groceries, and went to dinner with a friend.
....
Ha, no not that type of friend. My best female friend from high school.
....
Nah, it didn't really bother me, the day that is. I mean, I got to hang out with my family and bought sweets for my sister and her family. Can't ask for anything better.
...
What would I think about them? Sure Valentines day is about love, but I don't have anyone particular in sight. And I'm fine the way I am. Completion is part of my own life journey, not someone else's responsibility.
....
This? Oh no, this post is about my nerves about the future of my work life. Not my love life.
.....
Sure I'll make a comment, but it shouldn't take long. And I did want to bring this other thought process up.
Romance was in the air, dripping from the tips of their mouths. Heated breath took in the gingerly held object. Then it disappeared at once into the lush pink bounty of their lips.
Yes, the sushi place was most excellent. Giggling at the couples around us, Sam and I chilled and talked about stuff and boys. I couldn't be happier. No need to stroke someones ego to the point of a climatic (or anticlimactic) evening. Or to spend more time with someone just to prove to society that our love is valid according to their standards.
There was no need to really talk about my past loves, except to make comments about current crushes. Even then, my friends slightly prompt me into that direction of the conversation, so I don't always bring up the conversation myself.
I'm just happy to be me. By myself. That's how it started and how it will all end. Perhaps I have a dark view of what happens after life, but I choose to learn how to do things myself. And if I learn to love myself, it will greater serve my love for others.
I do not have to find another half, I need to find an equal mate; a partner. And they will have to deal with my catch-22's and realize that my social strengths come from my social weaknesses. We are all complicated beings. I refuse to let my past relationships label me. Yes, I was naive at first. But first relationships are not expected to be perfect. Also, I wanted some type of chase. Make him want me even more.
What to say about the second, I do not know. Other than I was the best girlfriend that I could be, even when I made mistakes. I gave my all, but forsake my family, my personal sense of being, and my future? That I could not, can not, and will not do. Independent woman I am, I do not bend to someones will just because they want to take every last bit of love my heart can hold. Because before far too soon, my blood will turn cold. I did my best, nothing less, till I knew that they gave up on me.
So thus, I am better off. I won't even talk about my numerous and diverse crushes. I'm too easily swept away, or attract those that I don't want to attract... Or I fall for gay guys. That happens way too often than I like to admit.
Romance is a beautiful fantasy that we all enjoy. But it doesn't have the grit that work has... the exhilaration of real life.
I'd like to keep my feet on the ground just awhile longer before I launch upwards.
And who knows what I will find up there in the sky?
....
My Valentines day was quite nice, thank you. :-)
.....
Oh, I just went to the gym, bought groceries, and went to dinner with a friend.
....
Ha, no not that type of friend. My best female friend from high school.
....
Nah, it didn't really bother me, the day that is. I mean, I got to hang out with my family and bought sweets for my sister and her family. Can't ask for anything better.
...
What would I think about them? Sure Valentines day is about love, but I don't have anyone particular in sight. And I'm fine the way I am. Completion is part of my own life journey, not someone else's responsibility.
....
This? Oh no, this post is about my nerves about the future of my work life. Not my love life.
.....
Sure I'll make a comment, but it shouldn't take long. And I did want to bring this other thought process up.
Romance was in the air, dripping from the tips of their mouths. Heated breath took in the gingerly held object. Then it disappeared at once into the lush pink bounty of their lips.
Yes, the sushi place was most excellent. Giggling at the couples around us, Sam and I chilled and talked about stuff and boys. I couldn't be happier. No need to stroke someones ego to the point of a climatic (or anticlimactic) evening. Or to spend more time with someone just to prove to society that our love is valid according to their standards.
There was no need to really talk about my past loves, except to make comments about current crushes. Even then, my friends slightly prompt me into that direction of the conversation, so I don't always bring up the conversation myself.
I'm just happy to be me. By myself. That's how it started and how it will all end. Perhaps I have a dark view of what happens after life, but I choose to learn how to do things myself. And if I learn to love myself, it will greater serve my love for others.
I do not have to find another half, I need to find an equal mate; a partner. And they will have to deal with my catch-22's and realize that my social strengths come from my social weaknesses. We are all complicated beings. I refuse to let my past relationships label me. Yes, I was naive at first. But first relationships are not expected to be perfect. Also, I wanted some type of chase. Make him want me even more.
What to say about the second, I do not know. Other than I was the best girlfriend that I could be, even when I made mistakes. I gave my all, but forsake my family, my personal sense of being, and my future? That I could not, can not, and will not do. Independent woman I am, I do not bend to someones will just because they want to take every last bit of love my heart can hold. Because before far too soon, my blood will turn cold. I did my best, nothing less, till I knew that they gave up on me.
So thus, I am better off. I won't even talk about my numerous and diverse crushes. I'm too easily swept away, or attract those that I don't want to attract... Or I fall for gay guys. That happens way too often than I like to admit.
Romance is a beautiful fantasy that we all enjoy. But it doesn't have the grit that work has... the exhilaration of real life.
I'd like to keep my feet on the ground just awhile longer before I launch upwards.
And who knows what I will find up there in the sky?
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Immesurable Freedom Brings What Exactly?
Many things have brought me to this point of freedom. One of them being the freeze on my education status. Yet that has not bothered me at all. The gained freedom of a driver's licence is even more liberating, but that does not let me escape from my own self. Not even the audition that I went to has not been the true key to this mechanical brain.
Since when has liberation been so binding? At this point I have finally realized that the restraints are not from society or the world around us. What holds me down is myself. All my work in the past has been done for others: school work for my teachers, and devotion to the stage for those who hired me. Do not get me wrong, we are all pieces to a greater jigsaw puzzle, and all work together in a community. But how can I best help everyone if I do not let myself with my own happiness?
I find love and happiness wherever I go. That is not an issue for me. However, finding that one thing that makes my heart and soul sing... that is what takes time. How can I claim my own life, if I do not support my own dreams? I want to be able to say, I did that. Not live vicariously through my friends and fictional characters. And I must make my mark.
So just to warn you, I'm doing this CD, and I'm getting my stand-up on!
And I'm going to do this no matter what.
Since when has liberation been so binding? At this point I have finally realized that the restraints are not from society or the world around us. What holds me down is myself. All my work in the past has been done for others: school work for my teachers, and devotion to the stage for those who hired me. Do not get me wrong, we are all pieces to a greater jigsaw puzzle, and all work together in a community. But how can I best help everyone if I do not let myself with my own happiness?
I find love and happiness wherever I go. That is not an issue for me. However, finding that one thing that makes my heart and soul sing... that is what takes time. How can I claim my own life, if I do not support my own dreams? I want to be able to say, I did that. Not live vicariously through my friends and fictional characters. And I must make my mark.
So just to warn you, I'm doing this CD, and I'm getting my stand-up on!
And I'm going to do this no matter what.
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