Thunder

I'm bored. And in describing the rest of me, I'm going to try to describe all of the emotions I'm feeling. I sometimes focus on the negative, yes.

I'm sleepy. I'm a bit disappointed and lonely and angry. I feel like my life is so very molten, which isn't a bad thing; I'm just hesitant to flow away from one landmark when the next is so very elusive. I should try to remember than water doesn't pause or falter.

Time, like water, keeps going. I made a choice a long time ago to try and keep my face above it by inhaling and laying on my back instead of fighting for the things I feel like I've lost. I trust. I know that my life is going to be so much more than it is now. I will always have memories and experiences that have marked me forever - and tearing myself away from them has lately been a challenge. My heart is entirely my own, now, but I'm still struck by the fleeting feeling of wanting to smile and look at those I once felt strongly for. It seems I push people away - everyone I've gotten emotionally engaged with has virtually dropped off of the face of the Earth once we've agreed to go our separate ways. Maybe it's beneficial. I know in some cases it definitely is, otherwise moving on would be a trifle difficult.
However, I don't know how I feel about having a tendency to make people crave distance. It's an odd thing to be thirsty for, or at least my ego would like to think so.

So here I am. This is where I've been placed. I could be anywhere in the world right now, with anyone, doing anything, but this is where I have been put, or chosen to be, or happen to be. It's never an accident, these things. My isolation could seem as inconsequential as a dropped penny, or as coincidental as two dogs wagging their tails, but I know better than that.

To be molten is to be dynamic, and to be dynamic is to change. How better to do that than to remove oneself, or, be removed, from everything that has lately been a constant? The only thing I have brought with me into this new environment is me. That makes me wonder what kind of tools I have on my belt that make me useful. What desires have I brought with me? Aspirations? Thoughts, morals, prejudices? What do I carry?

It's not easy. There are at least two people I want to shove and say, "So, where the fuck have you been?" And another three or four that make me want to slip some Xanax into their coffee. I'm so sensitive that I can't be around some things, and some things make me so angry.
The instigation is an accusation that I needn't plead guilty to, though.
Like water off a duck.

Maybe it's because it's night time, or because I must be hormonally charged, but I'm awfully melancholy. And I know that a lot of people would blame that on my being female, and that makes me want to shank people. Seriously. I'm really sick of gender roles, because I feel like once I started paying attention to them, they get more and more present and concentrated every day. It's not about rights or being able to wear pants - it's dealing with a misconception in the collective consciousness of the world. These things start with truth, before they're struck with an imbalance. Then it topples into chaos, and he were are - prancing merrily through a field of neuroses, singing misguided tunes. I'm fun today, eh?

On a happier note, I love the beach. Especially when the tide is out. I may ditch humans for a while, and commune with nature, God, you know the drill. Maybe I'll find myself out there.

Monroe

I don't even really know what to talk about... I just know that I wanted to write something.
I wish the washing machine wasn't broken... That's going to suck, later.

Today was definitely interesting... Things always are when you're getting new holes in your body. And seeing Harry Potter.

...I don't want to write anymore.

Bluberry'd

Oh my, the past 48 hours have done me some good.
Getting away was nice, especially with a good friend. It makes me realize that even though I really feel quite isolated, sometimes, I'm not alone. Bedtime giggles are the most hilarious thing.
I crawled into bed to nap, but I haven't. I needed to get something off my chest, and now I'm making peace with the fact that the information is out there. Swirling inside my head and heart, there's no way for it to affect anyone but me. Now that I've told the truth, I can sit back and let things unfold as they may. For better or worse, it is out of my hands for now.

Man, I really have to get cracking on that DVD. I don't know what else to put on it... I have probably another week before the deadline's getting too close. I just want it to be good.

Tie-Dyed

I feel fine, right now.
I'm extra sleepy because of the beer, but I'm okay.
It's probably pretty evident to whoever has been reading my blog that I've been going through a bit of a rough time, and it's true. I have been, and I hope that my expression of frustration and pain hasn't come across as pleas for attention or simple whining. If it seems annoying or excessive, by all means you are invited to ignore my blog entirely. Quite honestly, I use this space to talk mostly for my own benefit. I know that the people in my life, if they care about what's going on with me, will ask. I basically just write to get things off my chest.

I feel like I've done just that, lately. After a few weeks of feeling like absolute shit and obsessing over things that are simultaneously in the past and in the present, I'm feeling pretty okay. My memories will not leave me, but I will no longer use the term "haunt" to describe what they do to me. Sometimes, things suck. That's how it is. People change and they're impossible to change back to their factory settings. But you know what else is imperative to know? It's not all about them. There are billions of people in this world, constantly changing. You're one of them. I'm one of them. And why should I feel like I have to be the same person with the same feelings for my little changelings? You've gotta roll with the punches, evaluate and re-evaluate. Just because someone was once worthy of your time and tears doesn't mean they are now. It works the other way too, just so you don't think I'm bitter; just because someone was once given a respectable and deserved social berth doesn't mean they should be alone forever. People wake up, people fall asleep. Parts of us die and are reborn every fraction of a second, and if we get caught up in retaining an unhealthy protocol, we are being restricted.

I've been getting into music lately, because I'm followed an impulse to go to the library. I rented a few movies and a large stack of CDs. From this, only more interest has come.

This next part is unrelated.
I biked home at 2AM this morning. It was so peaceful, with the dim lights only slightly warming what would have been a very desolate atmosphere. I was a little frightened and torn between my instinct to get home and the desire to linger and appreciate the beauty of the silence. I found myself wishing I could experience a night time bike ride like that with a guy. Not just a guy though, but the person that I can feel in my heart. His physical features keep shifting in my mind's eye, but that is not yet important. I feel like I know this person, and the way we would talk to each other. Hopefully I'll know him when I meet him, because it's pretty inevitable.
I'd like to make a habit of that, if it doesn't mess up my sleep pattern too much... Early morning bike rides, I mean.

I'm tired. Goodnight.

Ache Me

Another rough patch. Yussss.
I want to get to the point in my life where I actually revel in my sadness and angst, knowing that even though things suck, it's only because they're gonna get a lot better really fast.
Today, I can't even muster the positivity to turn the light on. Consequently, I'm sitting in bed, in the dark, talking about how things suck. My God, I'm pathetic. This would be really funny to me if I weren't so heart-achy... I'm even listening to Coldplay. There's a weight in my throat and chest, though, that's weighing me down from laughing.

I want to be lifted - it's been so long that this has been hurting and I want to be okay. I can see it: what I would look like if I weren't as holey as Swiss cheese... There's an image of me in my mind, and she's gliding through this patch with ease. Peacefully, she's accepting of all the things she feels and is faced with. Maybe I'll eat and then try that on for size. I want to be more like my cat, in the sense that, by default, she is smiling. How do I get rid of just wanting to cry?

Hey, hey.

I laugh in the face of your hasty decisions and deeply-rooted jokes. They did not sway me today, though I thought they could sway me well. I didn't think I would recover.
Is it possible to, simultaneously, fixate and not give a fuck at the same time?

People are split into parts. Not halves, as some would dictate, but parts. Facets: timeless and infinite. Representative of many things. Parts of them, maybe. For every impulse or glance or fleeting desire, there lies a separate version of yourself. Billions, correct? More than that. Countless versions of who you thought to be one entity. Now, for every one of these infinite selves, a past, a present, and a future... Not to mention everything in between. Fractions of time and space and feeling.

I missed all of someone, a while ago. If you think about how many people I was missing by missing one whole person, you can likely imagine how heavy my heart was. Now, I have discovered something: I did not miss that one whole person, just a fraction. Whether it is a fraction of me or him is yet to be determined. I could easily be missing myself, right now. Rightly so, I seem to be on vacation. Or maybe something less frivolous, I don't like to imagine myself skipping out on me for a colada and some oiled men. Maybe I'm buried under the silt of my eighteen years, patiently waiting to be unburied. I'm close now, though... Like I can see the dust of my breath rising as I dig myself out from above with my bare hands.

My cat is smiling. Cats smile a lot. I wonder what they know that I don't that inspires them to be so content all the time, simply snoozing and stretching and smiling. Even when I am just laying in my bed, staring at the ceiling, I am not smiling. Maybe I should be. They're in on some joke or savvy to some truth that has them fundamentally content. It's as if it's their default emotion... Unless they're hungry or frightened or irritated, they are happy. Me, I'm different. My default emotion is probably wide-eyed patience.

There is always something coming to guide me by the hand. I get scared and panicked sometimes, because it's as though my future becomes this gray, soupy blob of chaotic nonsense. If I don't have a direct course, I sink into what can only be defined as the grays. The blues are too luminous, too serene to describe the feeling. Gray is as background and removed as a dried spoonful of oatmeal under the fridge, where no one can even want to pay attention to it.
Depressing, no? Existential oatmeal... Ooh, that has meme potential. Don't tell anyone.

Where is love?! Somewhere. Apparently it is as perennial as the grass. Desiderata told me that... I don't know what perennial means, but it seems fitting. I'd like a well paying job, soon... I've got to figure out how to make my dreams come true. Sounds drastic, but my dreams don't involve castles or princes or dragons (though I'm lying about them not involving dragons).
Mostly they just involve a VW Cabriolet and the open road to Boston. The post script on my dream involves a positive response and acceptance to my letter that I'm going to send to my favorite actor, Chris Lowell. I am so very tired... At least my words are flowing. That's nice.

Bruises and Band

I think it's just one of those days.
One of those days you just don't want to get out of bed in the morning, because you don't want to go to work. Then you do. And it's fine, but you nearly fall asleep in brief.
You get a few conversations in, no sign ups. More people ignore you than usual, or shake their heads at your profession because you're interrupting their lives. As little as you feel sorry for them, you secretly wish you could have the freedom to just meander, carefree, as they seem to. You know that's not true, but that's how it looks.
You think often about your poor posture, and all the things at which you want to become skilled. You think about how much money it would take for lessons. Your shoulders slump again.
You think about a guy you used to know with a certain posture problem.
Your shoulders slump further with the weight of the memory.
You get fired an hour later.

You come home, are whisked away to someone's house, and they're very sweet. An hour and a half later, you bike home. Improperly. Get corrected. Don't take it well.
Cry. Open windows, listen to rain. Light candles. Chill the fuck out.

I would say I'm back where I started, but I'm not. Probably about 600 dollars for the richer with a sunburn and some Bo Burnham tickets. I have ambition, now. Thirst, now. Drive, now.
But I'm idle after tomorrow.
Hah, who am I kidding?