human being

My old therapist used to say “we are human beings, not human doings.”  I like that concept.

I felt very unaccomplished today in certain aspects and I’m not sure if I should blame my actions or my own self perception. I’m still on the hunt for a job to my liking and so far, nothing has really panned out. In the meantime, I’m still doing the waiting gig and it is helping me keep financially afloat, but it’s also getting somewhat old after only a couple of weeks. It seems my boyfriend always has the questions I have the most trouble answering at this particular juncture of my life and that is equally challenging and frustrating. I’ve never been particularly “pushed” in my life to do my best, or to not settle for the mediocre. Naturally, now that someone gives enough of a shit to do this, I become defensive and negative towards the suggestions, which is especially odd since I know the intent is good.  I suppose I’m just not used to such a thing and I tend to take it as some sort of judgment. But perhaps I am only judging myself for not thinking of these things before.

Then there is the other hand. The one I rely on and have learned to trust over the course of my adult life. The one that says these things aren’t ultimately important to my happiness. The one that settles and becomes content with it’s surroundings while learning to adapt to new (though not necessarily chosen) circumstances.  And of course, the questions. The ever present, ever evolving questions.. Am I really capable of doing something new? Am I up to the challenge?  When it’s all said and done, will it really matter what I did for a paycheck?  Will it matter to me?  Should it matter?

I am admittedly simple minded, perhaps to a fault. But is it such a bad thing to want nothing more than the simplicity of being happy out of life?  I’ve never related such a feeling with a job. Perhaps that is because I’ve never really had a job that truly satisfied me. Perhaps not though. I suppose all I really want is to pay my bills comfortably, enjoy my weekends of no work, have a nice glass of wine now and again, and be able to laugh my troubles away at the drop of a hat. Of course, someone to share these things with is just an added bonus. If I can do all of these things, then perhaps the rest will just naturally follow. The “rest” meaning that “dream” I have not yet chased or perhaps even dreamed up yet. Is this settling? Or just being?

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waiting

Well two days of what feels to me like being unproductive, i decide to do the waitress gig again. It’s my third time to work at this place and was actually my first job. I figure that is the reason it sort of feels like “going backwards” but I’m not exactly looking at it as a career move or anything. The only drawback I suppose is that it’s in Marble Falls, and it’s hard to justify such a commute for a measly little waitress job. Really though, I’m doing it because it doesn’t feel quite like “work” and I figure I might as well make a little cash while I’m doing close to nothing anyway. My “boss” is one of my best friends and I’ve known her since I first worked with her at age 15. Hard to believe that was ten years ago. There have been times I have caught myself staring at the framed local newspaper article from that time hanging on the wall with our picture on it. I can’t really recognize myself so that part is very strange. I was much much thinner and I finally realize why people mistaked me for a twelve year old when I was infact almost sixteen. I still get told I look “young” for my age, except now I figure I could pass for at least eighteen. I don’t get carded much for smokes anymore but alcohol is another story. I figure this particular trait will come in handy when I’m actually old and could perhaps still look convincingly younger. But realistically, I’m not taking care of myself as well I should be so that realization makes that previous statement highly unlikely. But I digress..

Waiting tables was what it was I suppose, and the day flew by in a quick flash which was a nice change of pace as sometimes the hours tend to slow themselves down when you work in a cube farm. I made decent money for the amount of time I actually worked and at this point, anything helps really. Still in a bit of financial and general limbo so to speak but I figure all I can do is wait this out and make little things happen each day. I am grateful to have great friends and an awesome boyfriend who are more helpful than they probably realize. When I get rich, I’ll buy them all private jets or something equally extravaggant (perhaps a pet shark or a Dyson vacuum?)..

Working on the resume now and I’m already fairly satisfied with the recent revisions. The perfect oppurtunity to put my vocabulary to the ultimate test and as tedius as it can be at times, I rather enjoy a verbal challenge. I have realized that perhaps I have spent so much time trying to perfect my eloquence and flow in the form of writing, I haven’t worried enough about how to communicate effectively in person. At least in a job interview sort of setting. It just seems to be such a structured and precise thing in most cases, almost like a test and there are just too many “wrong” things you can say.For some reason my general conversation in interviews seems to be mostly made up of these “wrong things”.  It’s hard for me to project an impression of myself upon somebody when that projection is insincere. I feel like I’m not cocky enough to pull off an interview successfully for any kind of huge position somewhere. And I’m not so good at faking it but I guess I should get better at that for these particular instances. I just wish I could be myself I guess and that would make things much easier. Some people are phenominal at exuding self confidence (in a non-cocky way) while still maintaining a good sense of their personality. I feel like a robot and this probably shows. But I suppose I would be contradicting myself if I said I didn’t enjoy this challenge at least a little. After all, technically it is a verbal sort, even though a different type. And I figure overcoming the challenge is just as rewarding as getting that big fancy job. If not more. Actually for me..most definitely more.

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damn the man

Well today I got laid off. Quite the bummer I suppose but I am taking it in stride. Definitely a long way since the last instance where I lost my job. But that’s a long story I dont really care to write about at this particular moment. I had fair warning or at least enough of a heads up that it wasn’t such a shock at least. For me, I guess the hardest part of losing a job is not knowing what to do with yourself for the 8 hours you would otherwise be at work. Always that advice coming to “relax” or “take a break” which I gladly welcome because it makes me feel a little less guilty when I actually do relax and take it easy. At least for today. Of course to my procrastinator ears, this suggestion is just what they want to hear at the moment so of course it’s only natural for me to take their advice. I took it easy enough to not feel bad about it, which is just the right amount. I didn’t completely waste away or melt into the couch or anything. I figure doing that would have only bummed me out as I would eventually be laying there in my own self pity, feeling bad I was on a couch instead of looking for a job. So instead, I call to “register” as a “jobseeker” with the ol’ workforce comission and a lovely message tells me they cannot “accept my call at this time” and abruptly hangs up on me. No reason, nothin. Which sort of just adds insult to injury after being laid off I’d say. But I didn’t cry about it or anything. (it’s just raining on my face, ok???!)

Then I cleaned my boyfriend’s room out of boredom and the fact I figure maybe he’ll appreciate such a thing since his girlfriend is now a jobless broke loser, instead of  just a broke loser. In other words, I kind of had the time, so I do it. It’s really the least I can do though.

So now the hunt begins. Finding a job sometimes is such a “process” and one I don’t really enjoy to boot. Thinking about it just now kind of exhausted my brain a bit and now I no longer feel like writing. Eh, besides I’m supposed to be off “taking it easy”.  Till the next episode then.

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intro (vert)

You would think that reading things I wrote in the past would somehow ‘inspire’ me to want to write more. I find that lately, it is accomplishing quite the opposite effect. I tend to collect thoughts in my head for awhile before they all come spilling out onto a screen or paper, whichever is most readily available (though I much prefer typing as I can do this much faster than writing and sometimes I can’t even keep up with my own thoughts). I think this makes things more interesting. The difficult part about writing for me is sitting down and writing about the mundane (or what I consider to be mundane anyway).  I guess you could describe today and any other day I’ve decided not to write in the recent past as such. I have had no recent ‘epiphanies’ of sorts or revelations to figure out in the form of script. But my creative side feels to be dying when I slack on this for too long.

I’m a thinker and sometimes I don’t even realize how introverted I really am until someone mentions something related to this particular trait. For instance, the most simple and recent example I can think of was yesterday when my boyfriend tried to have a legitimate and important conversation with me, and I couldn’t even so much as respond like a normal person.  So what do I do? I write him a letter. And wouldn’t you know it, everything I felt seemed to flow out my fingertips like a steady stream of running water. I didn’t even have to think about it. I read over it and wondered why I couldn’t  have just said those things to him when he was trying to talk to me. I’m still wondering actually. It’s quite silly if nothing else, even to me which just makes even less sense I suppose. Guess I’m more complicated than I thought. But I really do try. Meaning I have such a strong desire to be understood, I will usually go to great lengths to explain myself if I feel like someone is confused on an issue in regards to me.  I wonder sometimes if it sounds defensive at all, these “explanations” of mine. Or if they sound sincere which is the intended effect seeing as they are. It’s a hard thing to explain to someone when you can’t even understand yourself sometimes. I’m not sure if this makes me oblivious or an extreme form on unselfish. The truth is I don’t really think about myself much. I have never really taken the time to look at these things I do, say, etc (or don’t do/say, etc) and ask myself what that says about me. Maybe it’s some kind of defense or shield I put up. Or maybe I just don’t care. But even I realize I probably should.  How am I supposed to get anywhere significant in this little world if I can’t even answer the most simple questions about myself?  I’m sort of secretly hoping everyone goes through this at some point. But that’s my problem I guess. The real thing I should be hoping for is that I can stop wondering these insignificant things long enough to figure out what it is I want.  But of course, this admittedly is not my strongest point.

I have decided to make the tiniest goal for myself in writing more often, if not every day. This helps. It’s like tapping into my own brain and seeing things I didn’t even know were there. A sort of ‘self exploration”.  In fact, when I started writing this, I didn’t think I’d even get 2 sentences down, and here I am smack dab in the middle of a third paragraph. That in itself feels like a bit of an accomplishment, however small. I figure it’s the little things that add up. And now onto life outside of blinking cursers and various fonts. I’ll be in touch.

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the difference

Today I read a blog about procrastination and decided I have procrastinated my own writing of such a subject (or any subject for that matter) for long enough. On that note, I will not take credit for the newfound inspiration. But the least I could do is write. “Mr. A-Z” writes the best ones anyway.  His music isn’t too shabby either, or at least in my opinion. Feel free to disagree as I highly believe in contrast and differences  between the species. Not violent ones of course, but the civil more verbal variety. I know I’ve learned much throughout the years from simply keeping an ear out on an alternate perspective. And just because I’ll argue for the sake of my own, does not mean I’m not listening. But now I’m rambling..

This year has been quite the roller-coaster ride so far. I mean that in the sense of someone who has never been on such an extravagant ride before but turned out to love it. I’m pretty sure I can now identify every single emotion that is possible in the human psyche and that is somewhat freeing in the sense I have learned to maintain the good ones and shun out the bad ones. I won’t break down the events that have incurred over the 4 months and some odd days that have passed because listing them in a sequential order only seems to devalue them somewhat.  But it’s hard to write about how significant they really were. It’s only important to my own path I suppose and if I know these things I guess that’s all that matters. That feels a bit selfish on some levels but lately I’ve learned a little about the underrated talent of selfishness. I think it gets a bad rep.

I will say with great and utter confidence that I am a happy person.  I am slowly realizing more with time how truly mistaken I was about this particular feeling for so long. It’s a tricky thing I suppose. And just maybe I was happy at a certain point. Or at least accepting of my environment and trying to make the most of it. But now I know the difference. I am seeing it with increasing clarity every day. It took some work but like anything good in life worth fighting for, it’s worth the effort.

The funny part is when I look at my current situation, my logic seems to think I should be stressed out. I should feel sad and regretful. I should be feeling sorry for myself and arguing with myself  whether to bother getting out of bed or not each morning. I should be unhappy. But my logic isn’t always so reliable. It’s still evolving and gaining knowledge. It’s still quite inexperienced when I really think about it. Which just brings me back to the fact that I believe in differences of opinion on a very high level. Because really, what do I know about anything?  I have offered my share of advice and the occasional honest opinions but that’s because they probably help other people more than they help me. And it works both ways. How can we truly know ourselves unless we’ve been privileged to another way of thinking about something?  We can’t simply do this on our own because each person’s wisdom and perspective is unique. I am learning to ask questions and push my stubborn know-it-all attitude to the side. My ears are wide open.  I am listening for a change. And as for change and I, we’re getting along a lot better these days

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the breakup

I woke up in the morning and there he was. Clinging onto me gently from a tear-induced sleep. I felt his breath on my back creeping up slowly to my neck. It gave me chills but did not keep me warm like it used to. The overwhelming realization of the things I had said the night before began to hit me, buliding up and collecting into a headache to the rythym of his exhales. I knew suddenly and without question that it was over. I had to tell him. But I didn’t wake him. It was going to be a long day.

 

I layed there, pretending to sleep, trying to change my mind. I have always had a fear of inducing pain and this would surely hurt. I muddled over how I would break the news. Stringing harsh words together while trying to coat them with a thick layer of the finest sugar. I wondered if there was a way to do it without the inevitable consequence of breaking a heart that had been sincerely given to me years ago. I humored myself into wondering this while all the time, the nagging sense of reason and logic screaming to me faintly from the background. I knew he would wake up soon. I knew I could no longer pretend. I was terrified and guilty and hated my sudden epiphany. I let out an understated sigh and watched him strech himself awake.
No ‘good morning’ this day or post sleep affection. His eyes were swollen and his face was stained. The questions were coming and I tried to prepare like a schoolgirl who forgot to study. In an instant, she had all the answers. Lined up eloquently and straight, so clear that he would have to understand. But the first question came and it all fell to pieces. The words jumbled into some infinite scramble and I struggled to even speak.
“What do you want?” he asked.
And I didn’t know. I felt instantly sad because I knew that I would have to decide. Decide between settling or starting over. Decide between hurting him or hurting myself. Decide between unfair and wrong. His eyes focused on mine and seemed to draw out my tears like a vacuum. In a five word response, I took his heart and stepped on it gently as if on eggshells.
“I want you to leave.”
There it was, blunt and harsh but nevertheless simple. I didn’t feel the need to complicate things further. I knew the hard part was yet to come. I predicted an outpour of desperate pleas and sincere attempts to change things, the likes of which I had never seen. This was an accurate prediction.
This was the most painful thing I had ever witnessed but I had to be strong. I had to appear cold. My knees buckled and my fingers trembled. I held back and rejected his attempted affection. He would be turning on me soon. I welcomed it silently and waited for some sense of punishment. I secretly wished for him to destroy me with words. I felt I deserved it in some way. I waited and waited. But it never came.
He packed his things quickly and there was silence. Silence so loud, I closed my eyes and heard it ringing. I wanted to hug him and cry on his shoulder which was no longer my sanctuary. I settled for the carpet and watched him leave without a word. The silence became deafening then and I must have sat on that floor for an hour before I came to. I had no idea what to do even though I had been there before on countless occassions. Alone with my thoughts. Alone. I had become used to it, almost accepting of such a fate. This was equally comforting and disturbing. Had I wasted my time? I told myself no and I meant it. It was a good run and now it was over. I thought about the past five years and questioned my decision. I didn’t need second or third opinions. I did the right thing. The feeling of guilt and selfishness quickly turned into the opposite as I realized my actions. I was saving him. Saving us. But I was no hero. Only human. 

 

 

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lucky

It’s hard to find the words lately. I feel like I’ve said them all.

 I’ve decided to stop buying Sweet Leaf Tea in the glass bottles from now on. The advice on each bottlecap seems to mock me every day. “make love, not war.”  “be grateful for what you have” “the grass is always greener”..you get the picture. And all a gal wanted was to enjoy her tea.

 I’m enjoying my time alone and wonder whether or not that’s a good thing. I don’t know the difference between feeling lonely and being alone anymore. Maybe I’ve gotten used to it way before now. Or maybe the worst is yet to come. I kind of hope it is actually. It would give me a certain punishment I feel I deserve. But I can’t help this. Could I have prevented it? I try not to answer that one.

 I finally have time to think and find it’s harder than ever to do so. One of the things I’m enjoying actually is the not having to think. Nobody asking me questions I don’t have answers to.  Nobody to really talk to and that’s even okay I guess. The silence is peaceful. Ironically, gives me even more time to think. But for now, I’m taking a mental vacation so to speak. I don’t really know when I’ll be returning.

 I could live in my head forever.

You’d never know it, but I truly am a lucky, lucky girl.

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eggshells

He came home last night. We sat by the lake and talked lightly whilst the radio played nearby from an open car door. I asked if he was bored to which he quickly returned “Not if I’m with you”.. We have a smooth operator here it seems. I guess I was expecting some kind of romantic ode to nature and the lake and how we should do things like this more often..That is more less what page I was on anyway. He needs “constant stimulation” he says. I don’t know what I need. We are different in so many ways, a fate that has always worked to our advantage until recently. It’s raising questions in the both of us. Uncertainty. We take turns on being terrified and consoling the other. We have grown impatient. But four and half years is nothing compared to the rest of our lives. I’m trying to put that into perspective. This is nothing. The time has come to grow up and face the reality of human nature. It is unreasonable to expect perfection. It is unreasonable to expect disaster. Love is such a tiny little word that doesn’t justify such a feeling. My feet are not cold, but rather clammy and sticking to the surface.

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going postal

What an odd species us humans are.

 I took advantage of a lazy Sunday and spent the majority of the day on the couch watching random things on t.v. Rotting my brain, yes but also I suppose I should have picked out something a little more uplifting, but instead decide to watch something on god knows what channel, I think it was “E!” entitled “Going Postal-25 acts of Violence”   I caught it somewhere around 21 I guess which happened to be the story of a nice, normal looking guy that killed several people at an investment agency because he kept losing money. At his own fault mind you, not that this would make any difference or jusify the deaths of those innocent people. It kept going down the list, some of them I remember vividly watching live on the tube (circa Columbine and Virginia Tech)…There was one about a man on a subway who sat in the very back and proceeded to take out a gun and start shooting people at random in the back of the head. They let this same man represent himself in trial and refer to himself in the third person while he asked all of the eye-witnesses and family members of the victims questions about the event..as if he were actually innocent. Why would the law allow such a thing? This caused a debate between Kenneth and I when I reffered to our law as being severely “flawed”..He didn’t agree and proceeded to tell me this a country founded on principles that everyone is entitled to a trial, blah blah, and that the law treats everyone equally..Meanwhile, O.J. Simpson is playing golf somewhere. Apparently there was another guy who got killed by Charles Whitman on the UT Tower that was merely sitting outside him dorm building eating a sandwich, over half a mile away from the actual tower..Why do these things happen? Such injustice. And who is to blame? What came first, the chicken or the egg? What came first, guns or people crazy enough to kill the innocent with them?  I happen to live in a state where owning a gun is not only encouraged, but gun control of any sort is highly looked down upon. And now I am torn. Is there any solution? I am admittidly simple-minded when it comes to these things, but I seriously doubt when they wrote in the constitution that everyone has a right to bear arms, that their kids were shooting each other in school and so on, etc… And for what?  Were we too lazy as humans to hunt our food down bow and arrow style like the natives? We needed to come up with something much more effective. Much more deadly. Much more..american.

 Last year in England, whose gun control laws are some of the scrictist in the world, there were 4 deaths by shooting. Presently in America, there are approximately 30 deaths by shooting every day. And everyone profits and continues to promote our right to bear arms..And maybe we should..if only to protect ourselves from all the crazys around that are also allowed to have them. And besides, where else would we get things to base countdown shows on ‘E!’ from?

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avenue N

I drive by that house at least a few times a week. It’s almost completely redone now. I kind of always just imagined it sitting there old and broken, and eventually destroyed and rebuilt, much like the surrounding property. It looks bounds and leaps different from what we used to reside in. Maybe it’s finally the way my dad had always imagined it..Oh, but was he ever in over his head. It was one of those things in your life, sort of like a bad relationship..where you know it will eventually fall through and you never really imagine a real future with it..This is how I felt about the house, and never one to dissapoint, my dad made sure this was an accurate prediction.
 I think it took him a record breaking 7 odd months to finish the roof. Considering his lifestyle, this was actually quite impressive. He always meant well and come to think of it, used to recite the phrase “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”  What insight. Although I never remember him saying what the road to heaven was paved with..
 A few most likely meth induced weeks later, he had finished an entire room. He did it up with fancy ceiling lights and all. They celebrated and rented a whole room’s worth of swanky leather furniture, and the biggest t.v. we had ever been in possesion of. All of a sudden, we remembered civilization and lived it up watching cable and enjoying the cool breeze of the window unit. Classy. At least an improvement from the ridiculously small for 4 people travel trailer. There was hope yet.. And 6 or so months later the furniture was repossessed.
 We actually lived in the house a good few years though I found excuses to rarely be there. This time when mom left him, it was a sigh of relief and we moved into a cozy apartment.  I had my own room again which was a forgotten luxury. I never stepped inside that house again.
 And there it is. All shiny and done up, and I’m sure the fancy ceiling lights have been replaced with something even more extravagant. But the roof is the same one my dad layed with his own two hands.. There seem to be pieces of my past scattered randomly about this little town..I wonder if I’d miss them should I ever move to the bigtime. There are some of  them that I’d rather forget.

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