lazy sunday...not so much

I've been fantasizing about a day like this for a while now. Rain. Nonstop. Perfect excuse to stay in bed all day. But after waking up at 5:30 a.m. to projectile vomit all over my body (thanks to my poor, sick baby), I've been in motion for the last 12 hours. Nonstop. I can't say that I've ever learned how to properly relax. That is to say, to take time for myself to do absolutely nothing productive and not feel guilty about it later. So here I am, attempting to take time for myself doing something I once loved to do as a teenager - write.

walls

Looking at this screen and touching these keys creates such anxiety. I want to express my thoughts - out loud, on paper, on screen...somewhere. But I have the hardest time communicating anything that is actually meaningful and close to my heart. I don't know how to tell people I love anything that I think might genuinely upset them or make them feel disappointed in me.

let's give this thing a whirl

I found my way back here, didn't I. Something is calling me to put hands to keyboard and say something. So here's my something: I am no closer to finding my way at 30 than I thought I would when I was 25. Punto.

Hypocrites and Parasites

I think I just reached my tipping point. Ready for something better than this...or at least different. There is only so much meddling, back-stabbing, vindictive, and plain nasty antics I can stand. This is definitely not what I signed up for and not what I need in my life at this moment...or any moment for that matter. I know I'm still young and gaining experience as each day passes, but some of the behavior I have witnessed here is stomach-churning. I know every place is different and has its own set of politics and problems, but I'm ready to move on to new people and new issues. While there are certainly people here who are kind, thoughtful, and well-intentioned, they are too far and few between to justify staying longer than necessary.


"Hypocrites and parasites will come up and take a bite" Bob Marley, "Who the Cap Fit"

Je suis désolée

I'm trying too hard. Too hard to make this sound poetic. Too hard to make the words leap off the screen and inspire someone to do something. Anything. What is it about writing that makes me feel as though I have some awesome responsibility to motivate others? It's rather egotistical the more I think about it. Writing as if my words ilicit that much power. At the same time it's a burden. Because I feel such pressure, I write so infrequently. And yet, it is such a great feeling of release. Pure escapism. There are days when I dream of being able to write full-time, make a living off of it, and feel some greater purpose for this skill. And then there are days when I think I might explode into a full-blown anxiety attack if I had to write to sustain a living.

I keep promising myself that I will become more disciplined about writing. Force myself to sit down each day and write about something...in a different style...from various points of view. But God knows I have never been that disciplined about anything. Ever. So for now I guess I'll continue to sporadically document my thoughts. Until something significant happens to compel me to be more dedicated. More focused. More passionate.

hurt

i often sit in my car during my lunch hour and eat alone. sometimes in silence. somtimes in the company of talk radio. but always by myself. i know people where i work. some for years. but none of them call to invite me for lunch. not once in 9 months. a couple were people i thought cared about me. were happy to share their time with me. but the only way we've ever had lunch together is if i make the first move. not anymore. not for a while now. what for? i know i'm slow, but i finally caught on.

it hurt when i finally came to my senses. physically and emotionally. no one ever wants to believe or admit they're not wanted. not considered good company. not considered at all. but that's my reality. what else can explain the fact that i still have yet to receive a phone call. not just for a lunch date, but for a hello. for a middle of the day reprieve. for a "you'll never guess what i just heard."

so i eat alone. every day. sometimes in the car. sometimes at my desk. but always alone.

stuck in neutral

not really moving forward. not really going in reverse. just stuck in neutral. i don't know if we'll ever rise above mediocrity.