I've never been a huge fan of Christmas decorations. Well, I'll rephrase that--I've never been a fan of putting up Christmas decorations. I like other peoples' hard work and I like taking that drive to see all the pretty lights, but I've never actually put any effort into my own living space, aside from the plug-in fiber-optic mini-tree I bought last year. I don't think I could get away with calling that "effort".
This year, I find myself in a different sort of state. Last year, I was more or less financially secure, vaguely unhappy with myself and most things in my life. I shared this space with someone as lost as I was. We clung to each other to validate some stray path we'd both taken. It sounds kind of sad, and it is, but that kind of relationship is part of the human condition--experiencing that is necessary on the way to understanding the human soul. Or, my soul, anyway.
This year, I've nothing to cling to. My finances, while strict and disciplined, don't allow for much excess. It's a double-edged sword: while it can mortally wound me, it also cuts out all the excess that eventually makes me "sad without cause". Not having the money to buy the bag of cookies kinda makes the choice for you, you know?
This year, my life feels a bit like my room when I was a kid. I'd create modifications out of what I had on hand (example: I once made a speaker shelf out of an old plastic pencil case, hemp twine and duct tape), tied together with string and tiny bits of prayers I remember from childhood. Everything is so fragile. If I drop the ball, it all breaks to pieces, and this time I won't be able to glue them back together.
So I got a Christmas tree.
I didn't pay for it; it was the old fake tree my parents have been putting together for 14 years now. And even though it isn't a money tree, and it does not grow peace-of-mind pinecones, it has somehow glued the living room together.
I didn't have any ornaments or tinsel, or shiny breakable baubles to adorn it with, so of course I made some. Old CDs tied to the branches with hemp twine, a handmade dream catcher from JH, strips of mismatched fabric as bows. A Chinese takeout box with a light bulb inside as the topper. It really does look like my tree.
And I've been thinking a lot about it. Not just the tree, but the atmosphere of a widely-celebrated holiday. I'm not exactly a Christian; I'm not exactly a believer in anything outside of positivity. So why would a Christmas tree smooth over the rough spots? Bridge the gaps over abyssal sadnesses? It's not even a real tree.
I guess it could be as simple as, this is what's always happened around this time of year. There's always been a tree. Maybe it's just familiarity, like the ghost of something that once made me so excited I couldn't sleep.
I hear we spend our whole lives trying to get back to our care-free youth. Maybe, in a sense, the more care-free your youth is, the more lost you are when you grow up, because it doesn't exist outside of that. To get it back, you have to build it; shove over everything else in the real world and make room for it. And still, no matter how much hemp twine or scrap fabric I tie together, I'm never going to get it back, not really. It will always be the ghost of it--a smell, a warmth, but less than it was. A residual. Until I spawn my crotchfruit, of course; then I can re-create it for them, and weep a little inside when I see how happy they are. And I'll think, I remember that. I remember that.
The Christmas tree helps, though.
01 December 2010
19 November 2010
Grumbles
This is so fun. I sometimes think I have too much fun, and later on, when I'm old, the weight of all my fun will come crashing down on my weak bones. For all the pain and responsibility that I see other adults having to deal with, I've only ever dealt with a fraction of that. Everyone's so grumbles about their stressful lives. Sometimes I think that mine is, too, and I get grumbles. But then I have a night like last night, paired with a morning like this morning, and I have no grumble excuses.
This morning, it took everything in me to get out of bed. I didn't have to get out of bed, actually, but my teeth felt nasty and I wanted coffee really bad. My bed was so warm. So, so warm and cozy and smushy, and my brain was swollen from last night (and was at critical mass). I had this perfect pillow formation set up to where I was laying on one, and the other cold, lumpy pillow (affectionately dubbed "the Jank") was on top of my head, chilling it.
But stomach acidity and toothbrushes pulled me out. Chuggin' water and cooking eggs kept me out. Now, I've got 2 fried eggs, sauteed & curried garlic spinach, chard, and bell peppers with couscous in my tummy, and I kinda want to go back to bed.
The moral of the story, and the point of writing this, is that I CAN JUST GO BACK TO BED IF I WANT TO. I have too much fun.
This morning, it took everything in me to get out of bed. I didn't have to get out of bed, actually, but my teeth felt nasty and I wanted coffee really bad. My bed was so warm. So, so warm and cozy and smushy, and my brain was swollen from last night (and was at critical mass). I had this perfect pillow formation set up to where I was laying on one, and the other cold, lumpy pillow (affectionately dubbed "the Jank") was on top of my head, chilling it.
But stomach acidity and toothbrushes pulled me out. Chuggin' water and cooking eggs kept me out. Now, I've got 2 fried eggs, sauteed & curried garlic spinach, chard, and bell peppers with couscous in my tummy, and I kinda want to go back to bed.
The moral of the story, and the point of writing this, is that I CAN JUST GO BACK TO BED IF I WANT TO. I have too much fun.
16 November 2010
On the Lam
When things surround me and don't let me breathe, usually I simply ignore it until it's no longer a problem, or if the things are tasks, I do them and move on. If they are bills, I pay them and cross them off a list.
I may be a lot of things, but something I'm not is easily affected by things that don't matter. That's why these past three weeks have been exhausting, surprising, and awful. Not the entire time, but you know how negativity bloats up and fills your days with thoughts concerning it, no matter what other fun things and happy people are around to distract you?
That's probably a given, but I haven't truly felt this way since I was a mopey teenager. I'm new to this. I'm pretty much sold that it's not a valid way to be, and I simply cannot get anything done when I'm not happy.
Since I don't want to directly speak of the subject matter, I will now list all the things that didn't go wrong in the last three weeks:
It wasn't sadness; no one died. My friends didn't desert me. I didn't default on my student loans, entergy has not cut off my power. My sandals didn't break in New Orleans. I didn't throw punches, though I almost wanted to. I've not gone a day without everything I need. No one caught me stealing their internet. My family didn't fall apart, I did not get into a car accident, no one overdosed. I'm not in jail, and none of my friends are either.
Those are the real things that could go wrong, not just in the last few weeks, but every day. What went wrong wasn't real, and on the way home from New Orleans this weekend, the fog around me finally dissipated. That was a terrible three-week vacation, and a real physical vacation to New Orleans fixed it.
I'm back to being impermeable. Score!
I may be a lot of things, but something I'm not is easily affected by things that don't matter. That's why these past three weeks have been exhausting, surprising, and awful. Not the entire time, but you know how negativity bloats up and fills your days with thoughts concerning it, no matter what other fun things and happy people are around to distract you?
That's probably a given, but I haven't truly felt this way since I was a mopey teenager. I'm new to this. I'm pretty much sold that it's not a valid way to be, and I simply cannot get anything done when I'm not happy.
Since I don't want to directly speak of the subject matter, I will now list all the things that didn't go wrong in the last three weeks:
It wasn't sadness; no one died. My friends didn't desert me. I didn't default on my student loans, entergy has not cut off my power. My sandals didn't break in New Orleans. I didn't throw punches, though I almost wanted to. I've not gone a day without everything I need. No one caught me stealing their internet. My family didn't fall apart, I did not get into a car accident, no one overdosed. I'm not in jail, and none of my friends are either.
Those are the real things that could go wrong, not just in the last few weeks, but every day. What went wrong wasn't real, and on the way home from New Orleans this weekend, the fog around me finally dissipated. That was a terrible three-week vacation, and a real physical vacation to New Orleans fixed it.
I'm back to being impermeable. Score!
01 November 2010
The Art of Burning Bridges
Hello, November. It's been a long year. I'm ready to throw it all back, get naked and climb under the covers for a nice, long binge sleep. Pretend that a good 60% of this never happened. Wouldn't mind dabbing a little concealer on the things I've seen, said and done in the past 3 months.
There is something eating at me, and I need to drive a stake through it before I change into someone I'm not; before everyone notices. I have bigger goals for myself than a single feeling, or a temporary reprieve from loneliness.
I'm better than this.
There is something eating at me, and I need to drive a stake through it before I change into someone I'm not; before everyone notices. I have bigger goals for myself than a single feeling, or a temporary reprieve from loneliness.
I'm better than this.
20 October 2010
09 October 2010
First World
Not a day and a half goes by, and most of my first-world problems have evaporated, or tended to themselves. The check didn't bounce. I'm not dwelling on the mess I used to be. I got to the bank in time. I wrote my cousin a heartfelt note detailing why exactly I would not be attending his wedding (entirely due to finances and not being able to afford taking off work for 3 weekends in a row). I'm getting enough sleep, eating well, and am not pregnant. The magazine I over-committed to, seems to have...gone under; it's October 9th and still no October issue, and no contact from the editor in a month.
It's rare, but I do love when my problems evaporate. Still want to leave, though.
It's rare, but I do love when my problems evaporate. Still want to leave, though.
07 October 2010
Shame
October is to be celebrated. Usually here in the dirty south, the climate gets mixed up and forgets that it's supposed to be autumnal outside, but this October is different. LA finally figured it out, but the cold snap feels... foreboding.
I've enjoyed having my windows open, yes. Have I been basking in the noon sunshine-breeze combo? For hours. But the unnaturalness of this season has been getting to me, along with impending clashes of multiple personal relationships, over-committing my time in all of my endeavors, my sister's impending marriage on the 23rd (and all of its accouterments, including shoes, hair, dress, jewelry, makeup, bachelorette party, gifts) and generally feeling like I can't afford my life, even though I've chopped out almost everything I used to dump my money into. Shit, I wrote a check for rent and it could bounce at any moment. The double tomorrow should take care of that, but if my landlord decides to go to the bank tomorrow morning, then I get to make one of the most embarassing phone calls ever.
My life dug a hole and I've been dancing around it with my fingers crossed.
On the bright side, I have somehow dropped 25 pounds since June. I'm 5'2", so it shows like a strip club in a neighborhood. It has been really dramatic, and hard in a way, because when I run into someone I haven't seen for awhile, they make a point to say something to the effect of, "You look great! You really let yourself go for awhile." And yes, I did, but in ways that those people don't know. It's a constant reminder that I spent a long time replacing myself with habits and junk and people that didn't make me happy. I'll come to terms with it one day, but right now, I just wish that it hadn't happened. I lost some of the best years of my life to forgetting what makes me happy. The worst part was that I was okay with it for the most part. It sickens me, angers me, makes me feel that I was lazy with my life and was just cool with letting my dreams evaporate. And yeah, it's great to be able to fit in clothes that I haven't worn in 5 years, but it's kind of a bittersweet achievement.
I can see it in my mother's eyes, she is concerned, because I had a bit of an issue with an eating disorder in high school. She thinks I'm back at it again, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I hate being hungry, and have absolutely no idea how I managed that years ago. But I really don't know how to explain it--I dropped about 10 pounds when I got my wisdom teeth out, but it just kept falling off me. I did change the way I eat, but not really consciously. Tommy moved out and I found that my grocery loads were vastly different. Also, money issues made it imperative that I eat cheaply, which meant I didn't go out to eat at all, all summer. I'm eating the way I've always wanted to eat. It's what I would have been eating if I hadn't tied myself to people for the last five years. I was making jumps and taking risks and living life on my toes, which seems to be my true nature. I felt better about my life, and somehow that all translated into looking like I did back when I was happy. It involved virtually no exercise.
Man, that was supposed to be the bright side. It is a bright side, but I don't like thinking about it right now. It'd be easier if I didn't keep running into people who remind me of how much of a mess I used to be.
My burgeoning mental state will likely catch up with me soon. Probably the weekend of my sister's wedding. After that, the climate will remember that it is dyslexic and go back to sweltering, and I can go back to remembering exactly why I'm here; I seem to have forgotten. Or maybe I won't remember. Maybe I just need to leave soon. I hear Oregon is fantastic.
I've enjoyed having my windows open, yes. Have I been basking in the noon sunshine-breeze combo? For hours. But the unnaturalness of this season has been getting to me, along with impending clashes of multiple personal relationships, over-committing my time in all of my endeavors, my sister's impending marriage on the 23rd (and all of its accouterments, including shoes, hair, dress, jewelry, makeup, bachelorette party, gifts) and generally feeling like I can't afford my life, even though I've chopped out almost everything I used to dump my money into. Shit, I wrote a check for rent and it could bounce at any moment. The double tomorrow should take care of that, but if my landlord decides to go to the bank tomorrow morning, then I get to make one of the most embarassing phone calls ever.
My life dug a hole and I've been dancing around it with my fingers crossed.
On the bright side, I have somehow dropped 25 pounds since June. I'm 5'2", so it shows like a strip club in a neighborhood. It has been really dramatic, and hard in a way, because when I run into someone I haven't seen for awhile, they make a point to say something to the effect of, "You look great! You really let yourself go for awhile." And yes, I did, but in ways that those people don't know. It's a constant reminder that I spent a long time replacing myself with habits and junk and people that didn't make me happy. I'll come to terms with it one day, but right now, I just wish that it hadn't happened. I lost some of the best years of my life to forgetting what makes me happy. The worst part was that I was okay with it for the most part. It sickens me, angers me, makes me feel that I was lazy with my life and was just cool with letting my dreams evaporate. And yeah, it's great to be able to fit in clothes that I haven't worn in 5 years, but it's kind of a bittersweet achievement.
I can see it in my mother's eyes, she is concerned, because I had a bit of an issue with an eating disorder in high school. She thinks I'm back at it again, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I hate being hungry, and have absolutely no idea how I managed that years ago. But I really don't know how to explain it--I dropped about 10 pounds when I got my wisdom teeth out, but it just kept falling off me. I did change the way I eat, but not really consciously. Tommy moved out and I found that my grocery loads were vastly different. Also, money issues made it imperative that I eat cheaply, which meant I didn't go out to eat at all, all summer. I'm eating the way I've always wanted to eat. It's what I would have been eating if I hadn't tied myself to people for the last five years. I was making jumps and taking risks and living life on my toes, which seems to be my true nature. I felt better about my life, and somehow that all translated into looking like I did back when I was happy. It involved virtually no exercise.
Man, that was supposed to be the bright side. It is a bright side, but I don't like thinking about it right now. It'd be easier if I didn't keep running into people who remind me of how much of a mess I used to be.
My burgeoning mental state will likely catch up with me soon. Probably the weekend of my sister's wedding. After that, the climate will remember that it is dyslexic and go back to sweltering, and I can go back to remembering exactly why I'm here; I seem to have forgotten. Or maybe I won't remember. Maybe I just need to leave soon. I hear Oregon is fantastic.
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