This blog post is useless. I'm not saying anything interesting or new. No, what I really want to talk about is how angry I am. I'm just so mad all the time. I'm mad that I can't afford to go back to school. I'm mad that decisions in my life are made for me. I'm mad that I allow others to be selfish to the detriment of my happiness. I'm mad that I can't talk about what I want. I'm mad that I can't live the way I want. I'm mad that the guy I want to date just wants to be alone. I'm mad that as much as I tell myself I'm a writer, I still feel like I'm not. I'm mad that I'm poor. I'm mad that I feel like I'm fighting all the time. I feel like my life is a constant battle against something or someone. I'm mad that "I'm sorry" doesn't have meaning any more. I'm mad that "I love you" doesn't either. I'm mad that it feels like I never get what I want and things never go the way I want them to. I'm mad that I have to compromise. I'm mad that at 23 I can't focus on myself even a little bit. I feel like I'm always considering others when I make life decisions and I'm mad that it feels like I'm the only one doing that. I'm mad that I'm mad. I'm mad that as I write this, I can just FEEL the comments building up. "Let's talk about this. I don't want you to be mad. What's wrong? Here are 100 excuses for why you shouldn't feel the way you do." Fuck you. I'm mad and I have a right to be!
It's the most frustrating thing in the world because of how I have to censor myself because of other people. THAT makes me mad. I'm mad that 44 states have yet to legalize gay marriage. I'm mad that I want to get married. I'm mad that this blog post started out about something else and morphed into a post about anger and loathing. I'm mad about wrinkled clothes. I'm mad about dirty dishes. I'm mad about rotten food. I'm mad about high pitched voices. I'm mad at tobacco companies. I'm mad about drinking water. I'm mad about baby talk. I'm mad that I can't let things go and let little things drive me up the wall. I'm mad that I'm so unwilling to compromise. I'm mad that I'm self-centered. I'm mad that I'm vain. I'm mad that I'm apathetic. The phrase "Look on the bright side..." makes me mad. It makes me mad that funerals are being protested. Of all things in the world to protest, you choose funerals? Really? I don't think you could sink any lower. I'm mad that I feel alone in the world on most days. I feel like I'm in high school again with no one to talk to about the problems I'm experiencing in my life.
I wanted this blog to be about happiness and pleasant experiences. I'm just so angry. And it makes me MORE angry that society acts like it's not okay to be mad. I just want to be mad and not have someone try to fix me or make me feel "better." I feel mad. Let me do that. Let me feel mad and don't try to fix it. You have two choices here: sit down and tell me all the things you're mad about or get the fuck out. Seriously. If you're not in the mood to be mad with me, then just stay the fuck away from me because this anger needs company. I suppose I know the real reason why I'm so angry. I need a gay friend. I felt EXACTLY the same way in high school when all of my friends were straight. Back then, I chalked it up to teen angst. Now that I'm in my twenties, living in my hometown again, with all straight friends and have gone through these feelings before, I understand that I'm mad because I don't have someone that I can just go to lunch with and talk about gay things. Much like men need man friends and women need girl friends, gays need gay friends. And I think this is completely reasonable. I suppose for now, though, I'll just be mad.
July 22, 2011
July 12, 2011
Is this thing on?
First, I'm sorry for not posting as much. I told you I felt a reading cycle happening.
Here's what I'm thinking about today: do you ever have perfect moments? When you're just at the right place, at the right time, wearing the right outfit, holding the right prop, with the right music playing, the right lighting and the world is spinning at just the right speed? I had such a moment just now.
It's Tuesday, for one which is perfect. Tuesdays are always the best days for being productive and lazy at the same time. When I realize that it's Tuesday, I always thing, "Well, I should get stuff done because I didn't do anything on Monday because I was so hungover. But on the other hand, I have the rest of the week to get all of this stuff done so I'll just do a little bit, plan my week out as I go." See? Productive yet lazy.
It's also right around noon. I think of all times of the day, noon is my favorite. It means it's lunch time. It means the day is half over. It means that I can stop saying "Good morning!" because no one likes mornings that much. The sun is out but for some reason, it's not hot. There might a breeze but it's not noticeable. The cicada's are out and I can't tell if that's normal or weird.
I have my iPod playing the jovial tunes of Owl City. Hey, I know what I like, okay? And I like pop music. Get off me. B, the dog, has come to visit and lay on top of my dirty underwear on the floor. I have a coffee mug of Dr. Pepper because I'd rather drink out of a coffee mug than anything else and I'm just not in the mood for actual coffee right now. I'm smoking in my room which makes me feel not only aloof but also incredibly cliche and I love it.
The only thing that could possibly make this better would be the gentle humming of my typewriter sporadically interrupted by the thwacking of the keys. I miss that old girl. She died recently. Her name was June (the month I bought her in.) She died of a fatal ribbon rupture. I was attempting to adjust it and ripped the ribbon. They have ceased manufacturing typewriter ribbons now. So she sits like a ghost in my closet. A useless, romantic dream of a 20 something writer hoping to make it big.
So my moment was perfect. I feel if more of us treasured perfect moments like that more often, the world would be a lot happier of a place. We would realize how trivial some of our problems are and grudges would be let go. Beauty queens everywhere would get their wish: world peace.
Oh. My. God. That was either brilliant and beautiful or incredibly sappy and disgusting. I can't really tell which.....you know...it's interesting how quickly emotions can change. I was JUST having a perfect minute and now....Now I miss R, my friend in the Peace Corps. I wish she were home and I hope she's happy. I worry about her happiness sometimes. I feel like she's always looking for it but doesn't realize that it's all around her. Happiness is a funny thing if you think about it long enough. It happens like waves on the shore. Sometimes the waves crash quickly and pull back over and over. And sometimes the waves will swell and seep deeply into the sand, warming itself in the sun. Yeah, happiness is a funny thing...
Let's talk about cliches for a minute. You know how sometimes, people want that "movie moment." They want to be Carrie Bradshaw and live lushly in New York. Or they want to be Bruce Wayne, billionaire by day, striking Batman by night. Maybe it's not even that extravagant. Sometimes they just want that perfect movie minute where their handsome boyfriend takes them for a walk in the snow and leads you over to where he's written "Will you marry me?" in the snow on the path and the next thing you know, there's a ring on your finger and you're crying and nodding and kissing and embracing. I'm not saying everyone wants these moments but they are out there. And I am one of them. And sometimes I wonder, are these movie moments cliche? And what does that say about the person who wants their life to be cliche?
(By the way, how cliche was THAT moment when I wrote that last line? I was SOOO Carrie Bradshaw minus the New York and plus a penis.)
Here's what I'm thinking about today: do you ever have perfect moments? When you're just at the right place, at the right time, wearing the right outfit, holding the right prop, with the right music playing, the right lighting and the world is spinning at just the right speed? I had such a moment just now.
It's Tuesday, for one which is perfect. Tuesdays are always the best days for being productive and lazy at the same time. When I realize that it's Tuesday, I always thing, "Well, I should get stuff done because I didn't do anything on Monday because I was so hungover. But on the other hand, I have the rest of the week to get all of this stuff done so I'll just do a little bit, plan my week out as I go." See? Productive yet lazy.
It's also right around noon. I think of all times of the day, noon is my favorite. It means it's lunch time. It means the day is half over. It means that I can stop saying "Good morning!" because no one likes mornings that much. The sun is out but for some reason, it's not hot. There might a breeze but it's not noticeable. The cicada's are out and I can't tell if that's normal or weird.
I have my iPod playing the jovial tunes of Owl City. Hey, I know what I like, okay? And I like pop music. Get off me. B, the dog, has come to visit and lay on top of my dirty underwear on the floor. I have a coffee mug of Dr. Pepper because I'd rather drink out of a coffee mug than anything else and I'm just not in the mood for actual coffee right now. I'm smoking in my room which makes me feel not only aloof but also incredibly cliche and I love it.
The only thing that could possibly make this better would be the gentle humming of my typewriter sporadically interrupted by the thwacking of the keys. I miss that old girl. She died recently. Her name was June (the month I bought her in.) She died of a fatal ribbon rupture. I was attempting to adjust it and ripped the ribbon. They have ceased manufacturing typewriter ribbons now. So she sits like a ghost in my closet. A useless, romantic dream of a 20 something writer hoping to make it big.
So my moment was perfect. I feel if more of us treasured perfect moments like that more often, the world would be a lot happier of a place. We would realize how trivial some of our problems are and grudges would be let go. Beauty queens everywhere would get their wish: world peace.
Oh. My. God. That was either brilliant and beautiful or incredibly sappy and disgusting. I can't really tell which.....you know...it's interesting how quickly emotions can change. I was JUST having a perfect minute and now....Now I miss R, my friend in the Peace Corps. I wish she were home and I hope she's happy. I worry about her happiness sometimes. I feel like she's always looking for it but doesn't realize that it's all around her. Happiness is a funny thing if you think about it long enough. It happens like waves on the shore. Sometimes the waves crash quickly and pull back over and over. And sometimes the waves will swell and seep deeply into the sand, warming itself in the sun. Yeah, happiness is a funny thing...
Let's talk about cliches for a minute. You know how sometimes, people want that "movie moment." They want to be Carrie Bradshaw and live lushly in New York. Or they want to be Bruce Wayne, billionaire by day, striking Batman by night. Maybe it's not even that extravagant. Sometimes they just want that perfect movie minute where their handsome boyfriend takes them for a walk in the snow and leads you over to where he's written "Will you marry me?" in the snow on the path and the next thing you know, there's a ring on your finger and you're crying and nodding and kissing and embracing. I'm not saying everyone wants these moments but they are out there. And I am one of them. And sometimes I wonder, are these movie moments cliche? And what does that say about the person who wants their life to be cliche?
(By the way, how cliche was THAT moment when I wrote that last line? I was SOOO Carrie Bradshaw minus the New York and plus a penis.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)