I read over one of my earlier posts and it was just... I don't know. It was so much more enthusiastic than the more recent ones are. And that was just last week! I don't know why I yoyo like this with my moods. I don't like it. I feel like whenever I even start to get remotely happy, smy brain dredges something up to make me miserable.
Do I just LIKE to be sad?
Maybe that's it.
I don't know.
I met with my psychologist on Monday. It was strange. I feel like I just dumped a lot of info at him, all that typical "head-shrinker" stuff. Yada yada yada my father, yada yada yada my mother, yada yada yada my dating life, etc. Thinking over what I said to him, it makes me seem like a classic example of a headcase. At least, it seems like I have plenty of reason to be insane.
But I don't know. Maybe everything seems like that in a therapist's office.
The guys are sitting in their writing meeting in the conference room right now. I asked David if I could come some time and he said okay, but I didn't really get around to asking John. When I stopped by to clean up the coffee David asked me if I was coming, and I said no, that I was just talking about some point in the future, maybe. Why do I do that? I so desperately don't want to go home tonight. I don't want to think all of the thoughts I know I'm going to think, and I don't want to get stoned and do nothing YET AGAIN just to avoid them. I really miss him sometimes. Maybe that's just the place I'm at right now, I don't know. So why didn't I stay? I have my book, I have my notebook. No computer and no dinner, but it's not like I'd even have to stay the whole night. I could have worked something out. So why didn't I join them, and why do I feel jealous that they're in there right now? Maybe it's because I wasn't actually invited, I just kind of invited myself. And that's not the same.
I don't really feel like I have any friends anymore. I have lots of people that I know, sure, but aside from Josef and my mom (my mom, I mean, come on!) I don't really hang out with anyone at all. I'm lonely. I'm really, really lonely, but I just don't seem to know how to make friends, or how to turn people that I know into people that I actually do things with. I mean, I have trivia, but it's just not the same.
I hate being this down. I really hope that going to the shrink will help me with that. I'm tired of being so sad all the time. And goddamn it, I'm tired of fucking second guessing myself all the time.
Mostly I just want to be able to talk with someone about the things I just can't share with Josef, or my friends. I guess one of the big things I want to talk about is Syd.
I've been wanting to contact him lately, but I just don't think it's a good idea. It's not like he's made any attempt to get in touch with me. It's not like he cares about me at all anymore, if he even did in the first place.
Oh god damn it, what's my god damn problem.
And every fucking time I see another email in my inbox I hope it's him.
This bullshit only resurfaced last week, when I was feeling really happy and thinking a lot about who I am. It's just that... well... aside from all the drama and manipulation, Syd was EXACTLY what I wanted in a man. I always knew that, but I never really realized the degree to which he was what I wanted. I wanted to marry that bastard. And no, the email wasn't from him, it was an automated update from my Mint.com account. Fuckers. The thing is, I think I could get past this whole Syd thing if I thought I could ever feel that way again, if I thought I could ever find someone else like him (without the major problems he had) but I don't think it's possible. And I don't mean to belittle the relationship I'm in. I love Josef. I love him so much. I don't understand quite how that's possible. I just worry. I don't know how long our relationship will be able to last when I'm still not over my ex, and I worry about the future for us because of the areas in which we differ. For example, I like to talk. This is not so much Josef's thing. But he's just such a good man, and such a good friend, and aside from stuff like the talking and the creativity thing, we just get along so well.
So I don't know.
Fuck this.
Fuck it all.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Mood Swings
The past couple of days I have just been swinging back and forth between being happy and excited and being depressed as all hell. I start out being happy and motivated in the morning, and then by the afternoon I'm just sinking deeper and deeper into depression. Yesterday I nearly worked myself into a panic attack because I have no idea what I'm going to do once this job is done and I haven't really done any networking, but mostly I got freaked out because I don't think I'm productive enough. I feel overwhelmed all the time, even when there's no need to. I'm not very good at being an adult, it seems. Of course, I worried about this so much all day that by the time I got home, I was too exhausted to do much before I had to leave to go to trivia. Today... well, today was the same thing it almost always is. Wondering over and over and over again if I did the right thing or if I made the biggest mistake of my life. Not fun, let me tell you.
I read this suggestion to write out 5 things you're grateful for at the end of the day. It was on the Simple Dollar blog, which has a lot more in it than just financial advice. At any rate, I think it's something I want to try. Maybe it will help me have a more positive outlook on life. I'm not sure if I'm going to do it here or somewhere else. More and more I'm not likely that this blog could be potentially read by someone, even though I think it's a long shot. I'm wondering if there's anyway to make this private, although I don't suppose that there is. I just like having my information stored virtually, but I'm just feeling that this is something I don't want people reading. At least, not yet.
I read this suggestion to write out 5 things you're grateful for at the end of the day. It was on the Simple Dollar blog, which has a lot more in it than just financial advice. At any rate, I think it's something I want to try. Maybe it will help me have a more positive outlook on life. I'm not sure if I'm going to do it here or somewhere else. More and more I'm not likely that this blog could be potentially read by someone, even though I think it's a long shot. I'm wondering if there's anyway to make this private, although I don't suppose that there is. I just like having my information stored virtually, but I'm just feeling that this is something I don't want people reading. At least, not yet.
Monday, February 16, 2009
The Artist's Way
I've started doing "The Artist's Way". I did my first morning pages today, although I didn't exactly do them right when I woke up. I was staying over at Josef's, so I had to pack up my things and get from his place to mine before I could work on them. But I did it! Doing it all by hand actually really hurt, but I guess that's just the way it goes.
I've been trying to figure out which of the exercises to do. You're supposed to try to do one every day (which doesn't wind up being all of them, but that's okay), specifically the ones that you're either excited about or resistant to.
The only two I'm really liking for this week are "Imaginary Lives: If you had five other lives to lead, what would you do in each of them?.. Whatever occurs to you, jot it down. Do not over think this exercise. The point of these lives is to have fun in them--more fun than you might be having in this one. Look over your list and select one. Then do it this week." and "Take your artist for a walk, the two of you. A brisk, 20 minute walk can dramatically alter consciousness."
I don't know if it's that I'm resistant to the rest, or that I just don't know if I can DO the rest of them. All of the other questions have to do with your past, most specifically your childhood. Well, I have a really hard time remembering much of my past. As Josef put it (and I am paraphrasing here) "It's as though your memories are not your own; as though you are remembering something that happened to someone else, so it's had to recall." That's how I usually feel about my past. I don't know why. I suppose it's because I spend so much time thinking of the possible future, that I don't really dwell much on the past. And I suppose because I don't think of it much, so it's not remembered as well as it could be.
So I think I will start with those two and then see where I go. I wonder if I can do them on the computer, or if I have to write them by hand too. I really hope that's not the case.
Anyway, off to chick flicks and then "Imaginary Lives".
Woot.
I've been trying to figure out which of the exercises to do. You're supposed to try to do one every day (which doesn't wind up being all of them, but that's okay), specifically the ones that you're either excited about or resistant to.
The only two I'm really liking for this week are "Imaginary Lives: If you had five other lives to lead, what would you do in each of them?.. Whatever occurs to you, jot it down. Do not over think this exercise. The point of these lives is to have fun in them--more fun than you might be having in this one. Look over your list and select one. Then do it this week." and "Take your artist for a walk, the two of you. A brisk, 20 minute walk can dramatically alter consciousness."
I don't know if it's that I'm resistant to the rest, or that I just don't know if I can DO the rest of them. All of the other questions have to do with your past, most specifically your childhood. Well, I have a really hard time remembering much of my past. As Josef put it (and I am paraphrasing here) "It's as though your memories are not your own; as though you are remembering something that happened to someone else, so it's had to recall." That's how I usually feel about my past. I don't know why. I suppose it's because I spend so much time thinking of the possible future, that I don't really dwell much on the past. And I suppose because I don't think of it much, so it's not remembered as well as it could be.
So I think I will start with those two and then see where I go. I wonder if I can do them on the computer, or if I have to write them by hand too. I really hope that's not the case.
Anyway, off to chick flicks and then "Imaginary Lives".
Woot.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Idea
I was reading an article (http://www.wisebread.com/can-you-afford-to-follow-your-dreams-can-you-afford-not-to This article, actually), and in it was a story about Walt Disney on his death bed looking up at a board of the dreams he was still working on.
I think I want to do that, and I thought I should make a note of it.
I'm going to try to make a board, and just cover it in my dreams--places I want to go, things I want to do, etc.
Should be fun.
Signing off.
I think I want to do that, and I thought I should make a note of it.
I'm going to try to make a board, and just cover it in my dreams--places I want to go, things I want to do, etc.
Should be fun.
Signing off.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Wrong
Why do people always like to tell me I'm wrong?
It really bugs me because I always listen to them.
Well, I'm going to try to stop doing that. If I feel like I want a certain specific thing, I think I'm going to say it! I feel that so often I don't have a fucking clue what I want or what I'd like that when I do, I need to acknowledge that and stand up for myself.
So there.
It really bugs me because I always listen to them.
Well, I'm going to try to stop doing that. If I feel like I want a certain specific thing, I think I'm going to say it! I feel that so often I don't have a fucking clue what I want or what I'd like that when I do, I need to acknowledge that and stand up for myself.
So there.
Screw You!
So I'm finding all this blogging to be strangely addictive. Although I do get like that every once and a while.
This feels different though.
I'm not writing for anyone, about anything in particular.
I'm just free writing. I'm not trying to be impressive. Well, mostly not trying. I'm still trying a little. In case someone reads this and I become an internet sensation and yada yada yada. It seems decidedly clear already how much I do that. I seem obsessed with fame, with what other people think about me.
Oh, and I wanted to write that I thought that maybe since this blog is so addictive, I should be a writer! People tell me that all the time (well, my family anyway) and I want attention and for people to listen to me and... TADA! Problem solved.
Only not really.
This is what I do.
I latch onto the first thing that looks interesting.
I think I've done that in my dating life a lot too.
What does that tell you about me?
Yikes.
And who is this you, by the way. My posts are becoming more and more like they are aimed at someone and they are not supposed to be, dammit!
I'M WRITING FOR MY GODDAMN SELF, THAT'S WHAT MAKES IT FUN!
I was going to write something but then Josef pinged me and I forgot.
Oh, right!
My eating's been getting bad again, and I realized that when I was working on writing this I didn't really feel the compulsion to eat, and I'm going to this seminar called "Turning Addiction into Creativity" and I'm really excited.
I hope I learn something.
Why is it easier for me to think when I'm either writing or talking? It seems like there's something wrong with that. I don't know. I just feel like I don't really want to be in my own head right now. Or maybe I just don't remember how. I spent so much of my life in my head, and now I don't seem to do it at all anymore. Is it because of Syd? Maybe it's because of Syd. I blame a lot on Syd that isn't really his fault, though.
It makes it easier not to miss him as much.
But yeah, the fact that I'm avoiding my own head can't be a good thing. I'm going to a psychologist on Monday, finally. Hopefully that will be a good thing. It's been a long time coming.
My room is such a damn mess. The whole apartment is such a damn mess. It's driving me fucking crazy. I'm never home though. That's driving me crazy too. And yet I agreed to go to my mom's tomorrow for yoga.
But I like yoga, and it's expensive, and I'll get dinner, and we can chat, and I'll borrow the Artist's Way book (which I keep seeing recommended) so it'll be a good thing. That seems selfish. But I'm trying to be selfish.
I like yoga.
I thought I'd emphasize that.
I'm nervous about seeing my mom, though.
From the last conversation we had it seems like she didn't really think I was "ready" for finding myself or something bull crappy like that. Usually she's the one trying to get me to stop being so afraid of taking risks.
Becuase I am.
I'm fucking terrified.
And now I'm nervous that she's going to try to talk me into being more cautious, when that's exactly what I'm trying to avoid doing!
I want to be rebellious!
I want to take risks!
I want to be spontaneous!
Now let me put all that in my todo list, lol.
Cause that's just the way I roll, mofos.
Oh, and I think I need to make it a goal to write every day. I'm not sure for how long. Maybe for now just to write, period.
I think that would be a good thing.
And I only watched one TV show tonight and I don't even feel that bad about not accomplishing much around the apartment, because you know what, I need to do this shit so screw you!
This feels different though.
I'm not writing for anyone, about anything in particular.
I'm just free writing. I'm not trying to be impressive. Well, mostly not trying. I'm still trying a little. In case someone reads this and I become an internet sensation and yada yada yada. It seems decidedly clear already how much I do that. I seem obsessed with fame, with what other people think about me.
Oh, and I wanted to write that I thought that maybe since this blog is so addictive, I should be a writer! People tell me that all the time (well, my family anyway) and I want attention and for people to listen to me and... TADA! Problem solved.
Only not really.
This is what I do.
I latch onto the first thing that looks interesting.
I think I've done that in my dating life a lot too.
What does that tell you about me?
Yikes.
And who is this you, by the way. My posts are becoming more and more like they are aimed at someone and they are not supposed to be, dammit!
I'M WRITING FOR MY GODDAMN SELF, THAT'S WHAT MAKES IT FUN!
I was going to write something but then Josef pinged me and I forgot.
Oh, right!
My eating's been getting bad again, and I realized that when I was working on writing this I didn't really feel the compulsion to eat, and I'm going to this seminar called "Turning Addiction into Creativity" and I'm really excited.
I hope I learn something.
Why is it easier for me to think when I'm either writing or talking? It seems like there's something wrong with that. I don't know. I just feel like I don't really want to be in my own head right now. Or maybe I just don't remember how. I spent so much of my life in my head, and now I don't seem to do it at all anymore. Is it because of Syd? Maybe it's because of Syd. I blame a lot on Syd that isn't really his fault, though.
It makes it easier not to miss him as much.
But yeah, the fact that I'm avoiding my own head can't be a good thing. I'm going to a psychologist on Monday, finally. Hopefully that will be a good thing. It's been a long time coming.
My room is such a damn mess. The whole apartment is such a damn mess. It's driving me fucking crazy. I'm never home though. That's driving me crazy too. And yet I agreed to go to my mom's tomorrow for yoga.
But I like yoga, and it's expensive, and I'll get dinner, and we can chat, and I'll borrow the Artist's Way book (which I keep seeing recommended) so it'll be a good thing. That seems selfish. But I'm trying to be selfish.
I like yoga.
I thought I'd emphasize that.
I'm nervous about seeing my mom, though.
From the last conversation we had it seems like she didn't really think I was "ready" for finding myself or something bull crappy like that. Usually she's the one trying to get me to stop being so afraid of taking risks.
Becuase I am.
I'm fucking terrified.
And now I'm nervous that she's going to try to talk me into being more cautious, when that's exactly what I'm trying to avoid doing!
I want to be rebellious!
I want to take risks!
I want to be spontaneous!
Now let me put all that in my todo list, lol.
Cause that's just the way I roll, mofos.
Oh, and I think I need to make it a goal to write every day. I'm not sure for how long. Maybe for now just to write, period.
I think that would be a good thing.
And I only watched one TV show tonight and I don't even feel that bad about not accomplishing much around the apartment, because you know what, I need to do this shit so screw you!
You know who I'd really like to be? I just thought of this while I was putting away dishes.
Spider Jerusalem.
He gets to run around, writing the truth, living his mission, being a general fucker and people pay him tons of money for it and they all love him (although he hates that).
That's who I'd love to be.
So maybe I'd just like to be Warren Ellis.
Warren Ellis, you mad brilliant crazy mother fucker, will you be my mentor?
The frightening thing is, given how fucking insanely wired Ellis is to the interwebs, he might actually stumble across this.
Now wouldn't THAT be a funny turn of events.
And there I go again, wanting attention, when all I want is to
BE
ALONE
Fuckers.
Spider Jerusalem.
He gets to run around, writing the truth, living his mission, being a general fucker and people pay him tons of money for it and they all love him (although he hates that).
That's who I'd love to be.
So maybe I'd just like to be Warren Ellis.
Warren Ellis, you mad brilliant crazy mother fucker, will you be my mentor?
The frightening thing is, given how fucking insanely wired Ellis is to the interwebs, he might actually stumble across this.
Now wouldn't THAT be a funny turn of events.
And there I go again, wanting attention, when all I want is to
BE
ALONE
Fuckers.
In my wanderings today through all those articles about knowing what you love and how to find yourself, I stumbled across this.
"Gnothi Seauton"
It means, "Know Thyself". It was written at the top of the Oracle. So was "Everything in Moderation", and while that's a good bit of wisdom, it's not really the point. I don't know why this jumped out at me. Obviously, I'm trying to find myself, so why would having it be written in Greek make more of an impact on me? Is it because I'm drawn to Greek, or Greece?
I've been drawn to Greek/ce for a long time, actually. I feel in love with the Mythology after my grandmother bought me "D'aulier's Book of Greek Myths". I wanted to worship Zeus for a while when I was exploring my spirituality. It's strange how my love of mythology started with the most famous of myths, and has endured throughout my agnosticism through my athesism and finally through my attempt to actually find spirituality, which seems to have halted since I broke up with Syd. But still, the myths remain.
This is the article I found the phrase at.
http://www.philosophistry.com/archives/2005/12/about_finding_yourself.html
I figured I should try to be providing links to the articles I find in case I want to look at them again, or on the off chance someone reads this blog. Although I actually really hope no one does. I like writing to no one. Don't ask me why I'm doing it in the form of a blog.
Or maybe do.
Although I feel like I'm always performing, I still cling to the idea or maybe hope that someday someone will read my words and find meaning in them. Or more than that like what they read and get to know me. I hate that I'm drawn to be an exhibitionist even when I want to be alone. It feels like some sort of character flaw. Really I just want to get noticed. I always want to get noticed. But for good things. I want to be that person who walks into a room and people just want to get to know them. I also want to be able to have some goddamn time to myself, which I never seem to, because I make it that way.
I have nightmares when I'm alone.
I just looked into the window and saw what I look like when I'm at a computer. I hunch. I look like a hunchback and honestly just sitting up straight makes me look 20 lbs lighter. John, my friend and co-worker has been on me for months to use good posture, and then of course so have my parents all my life, and oddly enough yesterday I just started to try. It's funny that I noticed how bad it looks now. Although it was noticing how bad it looks when I'm standing that got me to actually start trying for real so I guess it's not that surprising.
I need to lose at least 20 more pounds. I've lost 40, gained back about 5-10, and I'm just feeling fat.
I wonder if my skin will ever get tight again? I don't want to be one of those people who loses all their weight only to be plagued by nasty droopy skin.
Even though I kind of have nasty droopy skin now.
I hate my body.
I really, really hate it.
I look like a human plushy--overstuffed.
I can tell my face is beautiful, sometimes. At least, that's what people tell me a lot, and sometimes I see it too.
When I was younger and I thought I was the ugliest thing ever I wondered if maybe I was beautiful and just couldn't see it, and the reason boys wouldn't ask me out was because they were intimidated.
I still have that wonder now.
But then I see what I look like when I hunch and I know it isn't true. I'm sorry, that's a lie. I don't really know what I think about myself. I just know I'm not happy with me.
When I was writing this I was thinking "Maybe when I'm done with this blog I'll compile it and make a book and be famous and people will read it, blah blah blah". I find myself thinking stuff like that a lot, even though I know how stupid it is. Well, improbable, anyway. I know that this is just personal stuff for me, and that I'm not trying to write well or anything like that, but I still think that. I thought I should make a note of it. In case it tells me anything about myself. I seem to be really driven by wanting to be noticed. I wonder if that's why I'm having such a hard time finding "my dream" or whatever. Because at the end, nothing will ever be good enough because nothing will ever get me the recognition I want, and maybe even feel like I deserve. God, that makes me feel like a fucker.
But I've told Josef I'll go play City of Heroes (well, Villains tonight) and although I'm the one who suggested it I'm not sure I really want to. I kinda just want to keep writing and reading about "finding yourself" and all that crap. I wonder why I keep filling up all my time like this, seeking out people to keep me from being alone when all I want and need is to just fucking be alone with myself for a while.
Am I just sabotaging myself? What the hell is this about?
Reading the comments in the article. Saw a recommendation for this book Soul Cravings by Erwin Raphael McManus. I might read it. I've sort of been accumulating books to read. I seem to think that massive research will help me find myself, which seems to be the opposite of what all the research suggests, but whatever, that just seems to be how I function. Either that, or I'm just using research as a procrastination tool. Which is also how I function.
Fancy that.
I think I'm going to stop rambling now and do the dishes and play City like I said I wanted to.
Although if I was really going to be more selfish like I think I should be I'd just bag on him. But I won't. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
"Gnothi Seauton"
It means, "Know Thyself". It was written at the top of the Oracle. So was "Everything in Moderation", and while that's a good bit of wisdom, it's not really the point. I don't know why this jumped out at me. Obviously, I'm trying to find myself, so why would having it be written in Greek make more of an impact on me? Is it because I'm drawn to Greek, or Greece?
I've been drawn to Greek/ce for a long time, actually. I feel in love with the Mythology after my grandmother bought me "D'aulier's Book of Greek Myths". I wanted to worship Zeus for a while when I was exploring my spirituality. It's strange how my love of mythology started with the most famous of myths, and has endured throughout my agnosticism through my athesism and finally through my attempt to actually find spirituality, which seems to have halted since I broke up with Syd. But still, the myths remain.
This is the article I found the phrase at.
http://www.philosophistry.com/archives/2005/12/about_finding_yourself.html
I figured I should try to be providing links to the articles I find in case I want to look at them again, or on the off chance someone reads this blog. Although I actually really hope no one does. I like writing to no one. Don't ask me why I'm doing it in the form of a blog.
Or maybe do.
Although I feel like I'm always performing, I still cling to the idea or maybe hope that someday someone will read my words and find meaning in them. Or more than that like what they read and get to know me. I hate that I'm drawn to be an exhibitionist even when I want to be alone. It feels like some sort of character flaw. Really I just want to get noticed. I always want to get noticed. But for good things. I want to be that person who walks into a room and people just want to get to know them. I also want to be able to have some goddamn time to myself, which I never seem to, because I make it that way.
I have nightmares when I'm alone.
I just looked into the window and saw what I look like when I'm at a computer. I hunch. I look like a hunchback and honestly just sitting up straight makes me look 20 lbs lighter. John, my friend and co-worker has been on me for months to use good posture, and then of course so have my parents all my life, and oddly enough yesterday I just started to try. It's funny that I noticed how bad it looks now. Although it was noticing how bad it looks when I'm standing that got me to actually start trying for real so I guess it's not that surprising.
I need to lose at least 20 more pounds. I've lost 40, gained back about 5-10, and I'm just feeling fat.
I wonder if my skin will ever get tight again? I don't want to be one of those people who loses all their weight only to be plagued by nasty droopy skin.
Even though I kind of have nasty droopy skin now.
I hate my body.
I really, really hate it.
I look like a human plushy--overstuffed.
I can tell my face is beautiful, sometimes. At least, that's what people tell me a lot, and sometimes I see it too.
When I was younger and I thought I was the ugliest thing ever I wondered if maybe I was beautiful and just couldn't see it, and the reason boys wouldn't ask me out was because they were intimidated.
I still have that wonder now.
But then I see what I look like when I hunch and I know it isn't true. I'm sorry, that's a lie. I don't really know what I think about myself. I just know I'm not happy with me.
When I was writing this I was thinking "Maybe when I'm done with this blog I'll compile it and make a book and be famous and people will read it, blah blah blah". I find myself thinking stuff like that a lot, even though I know how stupid it is. Well, improbable, anyway. I know that this is just personal stuff for me, and that I'm not trying to write well or anything like that, but I still think that. I thought I should make a note of it. In case it tells me anything about myself. I seem to be really driven by wanting to be noticed. I wonder if that's why I'm having such a hard time finding "my dream" or whatever. Because at the end, nothing will ever be good enough because nothing will ever get me the recognition I want, and maybe even feel like I deserve. God, that makes me feel like a fucker.
But I've told Josef I'll go play City of Heroes (well, Villains tonight) and although I'm the one who suggested it I'm not sure I really want to. I kinda just want to keep writing and reading about "finding yourself" and all that crap. I wonder why I keep filling up all my time like this, seeking out people to keep me from being alone when all I want and need is to just fucking be alone with myself for a while.
Am I just sabotaging myself? What the hell is this about?
Reading the comments in the article. Saw a recommendation for this book Soul Cravings by Erwin Raphael McManus. I might read it. I've sort of been accumulating books to read. I seem to think that massive research will help me find myself, which seems to be the opposite of what all the research suggests, but whatever, that just seems to be how I function. Either that, or I'm just using research as a procrastination tool. Which is also how I function.
Fancy that.
I think I'm going to stop rambling now and do the dishes and play City like I said I wanted to.
Although if I was really going to be more selfish like I think I should be I'd just bag on him. But I won't. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
I hate mornings
Lately it's been hard to get up the motivation to do much of anything that I need to do. Hell, it's hard to even get the motivation to play a video game, or write this blog. I've been overcommiting myself, I know I have, and yet I continue to do it anyway. I'm not sure why. I'm just so... exhausted. And while sometimes I think it's because of how much I've been doing for other people, sometimes I think it's just me. I think it's my depression. I think it's laziness. I don't know. All I know is that the shit that needs to get done isn't get done, the shit I want to do isn't getting done. Nothing is. I feel like I've been asleep all winter and I'm only just waking up. And I hate mornings.
Here I am
Lately I've been getting the sense that I've been going about this whole thing wrong. I've been too consumed by figuring out what I want to do with my life, for the rest of my life, that I've just pressured myself into paralysis.
Part of the problem stems from the fact that I spend the majority of my time around people who know quite distinctly what they want to do. It's one of the problems with living in LA and working in the film industry. Almost everyone I know is in film in one capacity or another, and with a career that hard to break into, people have to know that they want it.
Well, I'm not one of those people. I stumbled on film by mistake. I was going to school at the Unversity of Victoria in British Columbia, which was fucking beautiful let me tell you. It wasn't my first choice. I wanted to go to Stanford, and although I was a legacy student with 1430 SATs (this was back when that was a good thing) and a GPA of 3.85 at an all-girls Catholic prep school where I was an active volunteer and a committed thespian, I just wasn't good enough. I applied early, and got defferred, which was better than the other girls that had applied, but when the final letter went out, I was regeted.
It broke me, in a way.
I went to UVIC because it was beautiful and in Canada, which was a plus as Bush was in office.
I loved it.
I'm still kicking myself for not staying there.
So as I was saying, I went for a year. Loved it. But when the time came to go back... I was fucking paralyzed again. I couldn't do it. I was so scared. I don't really know why. While I was away at school my family (my mom and sister, anyway) had moved from Portland to Los Angeles, and my dad had declared bankrupcy and sicced his creditors after my mom, and things with my boyfriend had gone from bad to worse (more on that later, I'm sure). So there was that. But I'm still not sure exactly what it was that froze me up with fear.
So I didn't go back. Left everything I had stored up there and left my friends and never looked back. Well, I did look back, but that wasn't til much later. I had been working at my step-father's production company over the summer, and it didn't make me want to shoot myself. Someone with a fair amount of influence in this industry once made an off hand comment that I should be working in film, so I though, "What the fuck, why not? I don't have a dream of my own, and this doesn't suck, so why not borrow it for a while?"
I dropped out of UVIC, transferred to my local community college, College of the Canyons, which was something that once would have made me feel like a failure, worked my ass off for a year, and then transferred to Unversity of California, Santa Cruz. Why? Because it was beutiful and my boyfriend at the time had went there and liked it and it didn't make me want to shoot myself to think of going there.
So I did.
For two years. Broke up with my boyfriend who had gone there. Took a lot of classes and worked as a dishwasher the Porter Dining Hall. Got a new boyfriend, whom I thought I would marry. Became an RA. Went home for the summer. Worked at MPH some more. Became close with my best-friend. My boyfriend cheated on me, broke my heart. My best friend fell in love with me. I fought for the boyfriend and got him back. Went back to school. My boyfriend told me he didn't love me, broke my heart again. Cried to my best-friend for hours. The boyfriend fought for me, and I took him back. It was never really the same after that. The boyfriend and I moved in to my dorm together. Hurt my best friend. Almost lost him. Became more and more of a stoner. Lost a little bit of my heart to my best friend. The boyfriend and I seemed to get closer and closer, and yet we started to have more and more problems. Felt like I was losing myself. Graduated with all kinds of honors. Came home to LA. Broke up with the boyfriend. Broke my own heart that time.
I still haven't gotten over it yet. I still feel like I lost the love of my life. I feel like I never really had him in the first place. I feel like he died. I don't think all ever get over it, although everyday I can bear the pain a little bit better. I think I'm getting stronger.
I don't think I'll ever be able to love like that again. It hurts too goddamn much, and to do so would be to betray him. And although he's gone, there's still a part of me that thinks that no matter how many miles or mistakes are between us, he'll always be the love of my life. He'll just have to be the love of my life that I live without.
At any rate...
Got a job at Warner Bros. Started dating my best-friend. Got an apartment, got a roommate. Moved into the apartment. The ex asked me for his shit back on my birthday. I asked him for back rent. He spewed filth back at me. Made me feel like shit. My heart broke a little bit more. Made a mistake. Practically got disowned by my mom. My mom tried to take me back into the fold, I wouldn't let her, was too upset. Had another, bigger falling out with my mom. Cried a lot. Went to Thanksgiving with my boyfriend/best-friend. Things got a little better with the mom. My supervisor got fired. I tried for the position. I went home for Christmas. Got snowed into LA. Couldn't go back to Portland. Worked on my apartment. Went back to work. Got passed over for the position. Trained my new supervisor. Helped the boyfriend move.
Finally sat down to think and realized I have no fucking idea who I am anymore, how I got here.
Freaked out.
Read a lot.
Started writing this blog.
Here I am.
Part of the problem stems from the fact that I spend the majority of my time around people who know quite distinctly what they want to do. It's one of the problems with living in LA and working in the film industry. Almost everyone I know is in film in one capacity or another, and with a career that hard to break into, people have to know that they want it.
Well, I'm not one of those people. I stumbled on film by mistake. I was going to school at the Unversity of Victoria in British Columbia, which was fucking beautiful let me tell you. It wasn't my first choice. I wanted to go to Stanford, and although I was a legacy student with 1430 SATs (this was back when that was a good thing) and a GPA of 3.85 at an all-girls Catholic prep school where I was an active volunteer and a committed thespian, I just wasn't good enough. I applied early, and got defferred, which was better than the other girls that had applied, but when the final letter went out, I was regeted.
It broke me, in a way.
I went to UVIC because it was beautiful and in Canada, which was a plus as Bush was in office.
I loved it.
I'm still kicking myself for not staying there.
So as I was saying, I went for a year. Loved it. But when the time came to go back... I was fucking paralyzed again. I couldn't do it. I was so scared. I don't really know why. While I was away at school my family (my mom and sister, anyway) had moved from Portland to Los Angeles, and my dad had declared bankrupcy and sicced his creditors after my mom, and things with my boyfriend had gone from bad to worse (more on that later, I'm sure). So there was that. But I'm still not sure exactly what it was that froze me up with fear.
So I didn't go back. Left everything I had stored up there and left my friends and never looked back. Well, I did look back, but that wasn't til much later. I had been working at my step-father's production company over the summer, and it didn't make me want to shoot myself. Someone with a fair amount of influence in this industry once made an off hand comment that I should be working in film, so I though, "What the fuck, why not? I don't have a dream of my own, and this doesn't suck, so why not borrow it for a while?"
I dropped out of UVIC, transferred to my local community college, College of the Canyons, which was something that once would have made me feel like a failure, worked my ass off for a year, and then transferred to Unversity of California, Santa Cruz. Why? Because it was beutiful and my boyfriend at the time had went there and liked it and it didn't make me want to shoot myself to think of going there.
So I did.
For two years. Broke up with my boyfriend who had gone there. Took a lot of classes and worked as a dishwasher the Porter Dining Hall. Got a new boyfriend, whom I thought I would marry. Became an RA. Went home for the summer. Worked at MPH some more. Became close with my best-friend. My boyfriend cheated on me, broke my heart. My best friend fell in love with me. I fought for the boyfriend and got him back. Went back to school. My boyfriend told me he didn't love me, broke my heart again. Cried to my best-friend for hours. The boyfriend fought for me, and I took him back. It was never really the same after that. The boyfriend and I moved in to my dorm together. Hurt my best friend. Almost lost him. Became more and more of a stoner. Lost a little bit of my heart to my best friend. The boyfriend and I seemed to get closer and closer, and yet we started to have more and more problems. Felt like I was losing myself. Graduated with all kinds of honors. Came home to LA. Broke up with the boyfriend. Broke my own heart that time.
I still haven't gotten over it yet. I still feel like I lost the love of my life. I feel like I never really had him in the first place. I feel like he died. I don't think all ever get over it, although everyday I can bear the pain a little bit better. I think I'm getting stronger.
I don't think I'll ever be able to love like that again. It hurts too goddamn much, and to do so would be to betray him. And although he's gone, there's still a part of me that thinks that no matter how many miles or mistakes are between us, he'll always be the love of my life. He'll just have to be the love of my life that I live without.
At any rate...
Got a job at Warner Bros. Started dating my best-friend. Got an apartment, got a roommate. Moved into the apartment. The ex asked me for his shit back on my birthday. I asked him for back rent. He spewed filth back at me. Made me feel like shit. My heart broke a little bit more. Made a mistake. Practically got disowned by my mom. My mom tried to take me back into the fold, I wouldn't let her, was too upset. Had another, bigger falling out with my mom. Cried a lot. Went to Thanksgiving with my boyfriend/best-friend. Things got a little better with the mom. My supervisor got fired. I tried for the position. I went home for Christmas. Got snowed into LA. Couldn't go back to Portland. Worked on my apartment. Went back to work. Got passed over for the position. Trained my new supervisor. Helped the boyfriend move.
Finally sat down to think and realized I have no fucking idea who I am anymore, how I got here.
Freaked out.
Read a lot.
Started writing this blog.
Here I am.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Change
All of my life I have wanted a calling. I'm not exaggerating when I say this. Like some kids want to be writers or astronauts, I simply wanted a purpose. The Purpose. Whatever it was. Well, while those other kids kept dreaming their dreams, then working on achieving them or giving them up, I kept waiting to be smacked in the face by The Purpose.
Surprisingly enough, this never happened.
Sure, I had dreams of my own. I wanted to be a writer, an actor, an artist, a paleontologist, an archaeologist, a bio-engineer, a potter, a journalist, a photographer, a fashion designer, a teacher; the list goes on. But one by one I ruled all those dreams out. They were either too impractical or not prestigious enough or too hard to achieve or I wasn't convinced I'd want to do that One Thing for the rest of my life, until after a while, I wasn't really left with any dreams at all. So I grabbed a hold of the first thing that caught my eye--the first thing that made me think "Well, this doesn't make me want to shoot myself."
Now I'm 23, just graduated from college (UCSC with a degree in Film & Digital Media), I'm working at a job others would kill to have (Production Assistant at Warner Bros.) and I'm just not happy. It's not that I hate my job or that I don't like the field that I'm in, it's just that I have no idea where I'm going, and if you asked me what I'd really like to be doing, I couldn't begin to tell you. My job at the moment is fixed term; I get one year and then I'm out. And I'm supposed to figure out what direction to go in ASAP (because my year runs out in August) and I'm just... stuck. Fucking stuck. And it's driving me crazy. Bloody fucking crazy.
So I've decided it's time for a change.
Surprisingly enough, this never happened.
Sure, I had dreams of my own. I wanted to be a writer, an actor, an artist, a paleontologist, an archaeologist, a bio-engineer, a potter, a journalist, a photographer, a fashion designer, a teacher; the list goes on. But one by one I ruled all those dreams out. They were either too impractical or not prestigious enough or too hard to achieve or I wasn't convinced I'd want to do that One Thing for the rest of my life, until after a while, I wasn't really left with any dreams at all. So I grabbed a hold of the first thing that caught my eye--the first thing that made me think "Well, this doesn't make me want to shoot myself."
Now I'm 23, just graduated from college (UCSC with a degree in Film & Digital Media), I'm working at a job others would kill to have (Production Assistant at Warner Bros.) and I'm just not happy. It's not that I hate my job or that I don't like the field that I'm in, it's just that I have no idea where I'm going, and if you asked me what I'd really like to be doing, I couldn't begin to tell you. My job at the moment is fixed term; I get one year and then I'm out. And I'm supposed to figure out what direction to go in ASAP (because my year runs out in August) and I'm just... stuck. Fucking stuck. And it's driving me crazy. Bloody fucking crazy.
So I've decided it's time for a change.
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