i’ve decided to start over. the original intention of this blog was to introduce myself. show the interweb the side of me i was not thrilled with sharing. the quarter-life crisis side filled with self-loathing and confusion.
i hate this part in my life and it makes it even harder to want to blog about it but i need to find some release. i feel like i can’t talk to anyone. OCD (Obsessive Comparison Disorder - something I recently learned about via a “quarter-life crisis” Google-a-thon) is keeping me from opening up about my fucked up life.
i know this is supposedly a phase in my long, wonderful (eventually) life, but it feels so real and permanent. i don’t feel as young as everyone makes me out to be. this is really hard, so yes, i’m going to whine about it, whether it helps or not.
lets make a quick list of all the things that suck:
i don’t have a career. honestly, none. every time i think of the amount of money i owe to the government, i want to kick my university where the sun doesn’t shine. the only thing college has given me is a receipt i keep framed and in my suitcase because i can’t find a place to hang it in my bedroom. the same bedroom in my mother’s house.
that brings me to the next suckfest: i still live at home. two opportunities to move in a little over a year and neither worked. one for a job with a location i loved (nyc) and one for a job with a location i hated (miami). i have this thing about moving - it needs to be 100% worth the move. i need to love where i’m going and what i’m doing, but neither has happened yet.
that brings me to suckfest numero tres: i don’t know what the hell i love, but i know what i hate. how frustrating to want a career so bad that it makes you want to take your own eyes out every time you have to work some shitty, pointless job, but at the same time, you have no idea what would make a job un-shitty and purposeful. i keep waiting for this perfect combination of things to make my career happen and my life to happen, but i don’t know where to even begin lookinig.
that brings me to the final point: i’m waiting. i feel so stuck and that’s the worst part. am i being picky? blind? stubborn? apathetic? did my chance already pass me by? why do i listen to my gut so easily when it tells me no, but i can’t communicate with my gut when i’m looking for a yes? it’s absolutely ridiculous.
i don’t have any answers, but i will blog about it.
i think things that are meant to be should be simple. the more complicated something is, the more you force it to happen, right? you have to work so hard and that’s not what it’s supposed to be like.
but then there’s the flip side of that where they say you have to work your ass off to get what you want.
so what is it? do you push through complicated situations, grind your teeth, and force it with blood, sweat, and tears or do you simply let things be…let it fall out of the universe and into your lap?
maybe it varies. maybe you kick ass for a career, but breathe easy for love? maybe you let work come to you and work at love? it could all be so simple, but ya had to make it haarrdd…
mmhmm…lord, i don’t know. i feel like these days every single thing is struggle and nothings comes easy anyway. i might as well work at something and force through it than rot away waiting…but that’s scary. working towards something be it love or otherwise means i have to publicly declare my desire for it and that sounds like vulnerability…
ain’t nobody got time for that!
mountains and dunes of sand rising high like tsunamis
over, over, over
it’s over - wait for the boom
all consumed like the lovesick
i know i do.
i don’t mean i’ve made mistakes in choosing how to love, but rather who to love. even that’s not completely accurate. i don’t regret loving anyone, but maybe how long i loved them, how soon, how much.
that’s why i love stupidly.
i’m not blind. most people love blindly. but i see, very clearly, who and what i’m loving. i make educated guesses about how things will go and how i will feel. i am a logical person afterall, so most things are evaluated with technical, mathematical precision, and even when the outcome is inevitably painful, i go on loving.
some people confuse this with bravery. i am “brave” for loving so fully, so wholeheartedly, but am i?
i have my doubts.
unbounded, unconditional, uncontrolled, unadulterated love is dangerous and foolish, but so uncommon, rare… i think it’s so incredibly beautiful to love that way…the problem is i have yet to find someone who will return that love to me. i also have yet to be mature enough to trust it and return it without fear.
i want to love stupidly and fearlessly.
i want to love like nothing else matters (because, in all honesty, nothing else does).
i want to want love, but never need it in the sense that i am desperate.
i want to love myself unbounded, unconditional, uncontrolled, and unadulterated (and this is the hardest love of all).
you inspire me,
like the weeping willows drenched
in the warmth of the sun;
like a child enticed by play
and honey in green tea;
you encourage me
with my eyes open,
no fear of distant circumstance
and i am a fool unbound,
dancing like hummingbird wings
my heart beats with yours as
you inspire me.
there are some people in this world, in your world, that will cross your path so vehemently that you will find yourself over and over in your thoughts about them. they will not simply leave their mark, they will reshape the mold of you, curve your bone-straight sides and smooth your jagged edges. these people will at times exist in the true form of themselves but will often be a figment of our naive imaginations. their love will be personified by experiences not had or misconstrued by other worldly emotions not understood or dishonored.
it is a shame.
it is also so true and so important. we need these people to disrupt and corrupt our lives so we can know something cruel and unexpected. we need these people to have desires and defenses. we need these people so we can know what it’s like to not sleep in fear of faces attached to eyelids and hearts to a metronome. life’s lessons are always sought in the aftermath.
let me take a minute to discuss my age. i was TERRIFIED of being 25. i still am, to be completely honest. i feel like i had this plan in my head about how i was going to progress in life. i had deadlines, steps, ideas… i was supposed to be rich by now, all figured out, and settled. i was supposed to have this independent, freelancing career, with a banging car and possibly be engaged or getting there, but no.
the only thing i’ve accomplished is losing some weight, some mind, and a gaining a bachelors degree (even if it has yet to bring me anything besides sentimental value). nevertheless, i’m 25.
twenty-fucking-five. i don’t mean to be profane but i’m in complete awe of that number. a quarter century old and i’ve seen what this world has done in that time and what have i contributed? i don’t even know what to say to myself. i want to feel young, like i have time, but i don’t feel like i have my youth. i don’t feel like i have this unlimited amount of time to succeed.
that doesn’t mean i’m giving up. no, it just means i’ll push a little, i’ll run when i have to, and i’ll fail more because i’ll be trying a lot to find my way. 30 is just around the bend because 25 years felt like a two block jog.
did i stop making sense? sorry.
it’s been a while. i was sort of nervous to look over this. there’s something about looking back that makes me cringe. maybe it’s the promises i didn’t keep, the joys i no longer have, or the accomplishments i didn’t mention, but it is a daunting task to look back.
i often look to the future. it’s comforting to know that my present is not all and my future could mean anything. i can fantasize about a different me, a different place, a dream vacation, a fancy dress i can’t afford now…my future makes me hopeful, but it is also a delusion. i spend so much time avoiding the past and hoping in the future that i miss out on the present.
it is the underrated, most important part. it determines everything i experience and experienced. my present builds the two things i dread and hope for. my present is also fleeting. two paragraphs ago i didn’t even have the thoughts that are now on this page and every letter makes a new discovery, a new present, and yet i’m wasting it again, trying to reach a future post. i guess it’s not a waste, since i want to post something and the only way to do that is to use my present to write that future post.
it’s weird to think about time that way. i guess i should just say what i wanted to in the first place.
i didn’t go to Miami. i was so excited and it didn’t happen. i was more excited to leave home, not so much go to Miami, but now…I’m still home, dealing my insane, but lovable family. i am still doing my beloved year of service, but from the comfort and discomfort of home. i still feel challenged, overwhelmed, and unqualified, but i’m doing this huge thing that tricked me, iceberg-ed me. i only saw the very top of this massive mission to make better happen.
how strange it is to be a part of something greater than myself. how even more strange to feel like this is greater than me (in such a grand way) when i think i’m not that “great” anyway.
that sounded a lot more jaded and wounded than i wanted it to, but i cannot edit the truth and i don’t know any other way to say it.
ah well, that is all.
i think i’m in love with
in love with the ethereal calls
of love’s strangulation
i think i’m in love with the weight
of darken halls and steel gardens
oh, i am so true to the stability of falseness
the loyalty of untold truths
of silver lines on puffs of smoke
i am so in love, love, love
it’s hard to do. it’s easy to say. it’s the only way i escape the truth. forget it. forget it. forget. it. but don’t. let it burn into the flesh of your memory and lay its ashes to rest, right there, right where it shouldn’t be, right where you won’t forget it.
crazy how things work out by not working at all.