Awfully reactionary it feels
to be stepping outside myself
my heart is whirring
a hummingbird looking to rest
and you
a tender branch
a languid pool
for my burning insides
I seek comfort away from that which is familiar
because everything is changing
my eyes alight with furious desire
drunk on the forbidden apple
a brilliant exhortation
a damaged heart and a cocktail
waiting in empty space
for something terrible and wonderful to happen
I’m currently listening to the chillest mix of music I’ve ever seen in an online compilation, and coming down from an emotional explosion. It’s cool now.
I guess I just realized, a little late I might add, that I don’t have it all together. So I should probably stop acting like it.
I’m still figuring out how to navigate this horribly backward and duplicitous world of adulthood, politics, and constant indecisiveness. The trick? To remember that although you might feel like what you’re doing right now is incredibly important, it doesn’t dictate your personal integrity, and it’s okay to make mistakes— despite what others around you might tell you.
I realized that when you’re tired and overworked, you save up whatever sadness, anger, frustration until probably the most inconvenient time to release it. And you have to just let it go. Accepting it and forgiving whatever stressors in your life are both important, but I’m going to have to start standing up for myself and actually learning how to be honest without being intimidated by the process.
After venting to the most understanding and wonderful people in my life, I feel a sense of clarity. And also very sleepy.
Good night.
I just emailed the Flight of the Conchords to ask where Bret gets his sweaters. Yes this is real life. Life gets real at 4 in the morning. 4 a.m. is the witching hour when you are invincible and sassy bitch that no one can hold a candle to.
The world is quiet, and you can do whatever the fuck you want.
Until you have to wake up at 6:30 and attend to your real life obligations. Manage things that have gone astrew with a mildly sour look on your face not dissimilar to having a hangover. Sunglasses will be involved in my foreign policy tomorrow.
On a lighter note, I’m actually expecting a response from Bret and Jermaine. Because it’s 4a.m. and they love me.
Because I hate the word confession. It sounds so dark and dire and quite honestly, Catholic. So I’m just gonna admit what’s up.
I consider myself, within the realm of not skinning cats and not under any ridiculous delusions about myself, pretty normal.
I go to school, I work, I hang out with friends, the boyfriend, but when I get home I fall into a pit of fucking spaghetti.
I become the biggest introvert. I am glued to my computer watching TV shows, sleeping, eating, and basically living like a depressed 35 year-old living alone.
I’ve gotten to the point where I am dreaming in TV shows. Like my brain goes through an entire episode in my sleep. It’s fucked up. And I do this instead of the piles of work that I need to do under the false impression (well not really since I’m saying this now) that I deserve a break and I need to save time for myself.
So I’m thinking, that instead of doing this and becoming a mouth-breathing TV zombie when I get home, I should take this opportunity to just have a 20 minute dance party.
If you think this is a leap, let me explain.
FIRST: I do not listen to music enough, I’m becoming an adult with no imagination or appreciation for everything creative and wonderful I’ve ever loved.
SECOND: I don’t fucking dance enough. I need to let that wild, little kid, wiggle out or it’s going to become toxic and eat my brains. (Cause I’m a zombie, get it)
THIRD: If I put this in writing, I cant not do it. So this is me signing a contract in tumblr blood that I’m going to dance this zombie away. AND signed.
So if you’re my neighbor, I sincerely apologize for all of the oldies and techno that’s going to be spilling from my window. And also for the smell teen spirit resonating from my life. I’m going retro, and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop me. HA!
Some things make us sit down and ask ourselves how the fuck we got here.
My best friend is moving away. On her own steam, doing her own thing, and I find out about this on facebook. This alone is enough for me to abandon this outdated shitter of social media. What kind of world are we living in when this is how we communicate with one another?
More on that later, but now I must go be a professional and chase these bad thoughts with mindless work.
Some things make us sit down and ask ourselves how the fuck we got here.
My best friend is moving away. On her own steam, doing her own thing, and I find out about this on facebook. This alone is enough for me to abandon this outdated shitter of social media. What kind of world are we living in when this is how we communicate with one another?
More on that later, but now I must go be a professional and chase these bad thoughts with mindless work.
Yes, life, love, if you’re doing what you need for you— whatever fucking path you choose your life is as it motherfucking should be.
And this will be my anthem until the end of time.
La vie, c’est fou.
I’m settling into a brighter discontent and facing my fears with caffiene, as do all champions with identity crises. I’m starting to realize more and more that my lack of ambition doesn’t have anything to do with an inability to do the work, it’s just a lack of interest in having power.
Or maybe it’s just not power in the way that most people define it. I don’t want to be in charge, I don’t necessarily want to be the master of any enterprise, I just want to do the work that I want to do and have others appreciate the craft.
I want to inform people, shape how they feel about things, I want to bring forth the empathy and desire to be a part of something bigger that I know exists in the apathetic masses.
I want people to know that they are noticed, and cared for, and to be the channel through which they feel that.
Conversely, if you’re an asshole, I’m going to ethically and honestly show who you are to the world.
I’m realizing why I’m going to love what I do, and slowly but surely, how I’m going to do it.
