Well am I completely sucking at this blogging thing or what?
Honesty hour: I’m stuck. That’s really been life lately for me — knees-deep-in-quicksand stuck. Which is, of course, sad and frustrating, and actually that perfectly sums up the tone of every freaking writing piece I’ve come up with for months now: Sad and frustrated. (Including this one. Hola!) I’m like, Self, aren’t you supposed to be creative? Can’t you write something interesting or quirky or witty or funny or something totally unrelated to your misery for once? Or at least muster up a little enthusiasm?! But ha. No matter how much I attempt to insert pretentious sunny acerbic bullshit in my writing, all that comes through is the sad. The mad. Also the boring. I wish I could say adult life is hella exciting so far, but lol no. Everyday I’m still struggling with the reality — I’m an adult, I have a job now, this is real life, this is what it’s all about, right? This is it. But that’s immediately followed by panic — Oh God, is this it? Surely this can’t be it. If this is indeed it, I am gonna be living a perpetually *gunshot-to-the-head emoji* life. Which: NO.
Also there is the fact that if I could call 2014 anything, it would be this: The Year of Not Talking. It’s been my first full year of no longer being a student, so I haven’t been with my best set of friends and favorite people in ages. And since my default social setting is off unless I’m with people who are well within my comfort zone, I’m not the kind of person who hangs out with ‘friends’ who aren’t really friends. These are the ‘friends’ I’m with now — people who are constantly around me out of necessity (i.e. we share a workplace) but not by my choice. I don’t mean to draw that line — they’re good people, and I am friendly, in general, if I need to be (lol) — but I’m just always reminded, every single day, through their choices of conversational topics, their seeming interests, the way they talk… how they react to what I say, in the rare moments I actually attempt to speak my mind… that they’re not my friends. That they don’t get me. It’s like I’m back to being so different again, so otherworldly. Misunderstood. And unknowable. So. All year the walls have gone up, higher and higher, and I’ve always been somewhere between I don’t want to talk to anyone and I want to talk but the words aren’t coming out and There is no one open-minded enough to talk to so I’d rather not say anything — and all that has spiralled down to this pretty much closed-in zombie-like life of not opening my mouth. At least not about the things that matter.
And now blogging feels like talking too. With my social setting still off.
But yeah: I don’t want to make you worry about me. That’s not the point of this post. I’m doing fairly okay. Honest. I mean, I don’t really get asked by these ‘friends’ about how I’m feeling in general, so I assume I’m still doing a good job of keeping it together. The cracks aren’t showing. (Yet?) I still have good days. I can still laugh. My spirits can still be lifted by little things, like microwaved butter popcorn and the existence of pain-relieving patches for sore muscles. I guess, it’s just… I think that in order to be a sunbeam that shines beautiful light out, there has to be a beautiful fire inside you first, and I haven’t had that fire for a while. I just feel burned out.
So, um, I apologize if I sound like a broken record now re: why I can’t blog properly/regularly. Why I’m even keeping this up, I don’t even know. Sometimes it feels like the least of my problems, one I could very well do away with. But sometimes it’s like an anchor to the productive life I desperately want, too. Regardless, I’m determined to keep things light(ish) here, and since I’m currently all mopey and heavy and whiney, talking happy here about books or music or art or general fangirlism/materialism doesn’t ring true, and I don’t want that. That spells pretentious. So. The crickets linger here longer than I do. At the moment.
However, if there’s one thing I rock at, it’s PMS (which I like to define as Pendulum Mood Swings, ha) and I guess I just need a big baseball-game-winning swing in the right direction. (Well, creativity-wise, at least. Getting out of the quicksand of my life needs more than that, I know, I know.) I operate on random bursts of energy, emphasis on random, so. You know. Unpredictable. I’m brimming with ideas, though. And I miss happy. So. Big Swing Needed Asap.
In the meantime, I’ll keep cruising, can’t stop won’t stop moving, etc.
DFTBA guys. xo