Saturday nights and Sunday mornings.

Some days I wish I were that girl that had the signature makeup look. You know, the girl that owns one bronzer, one blush color. And it works for her every time. But throughout the past few years I have collected so much makeup I cannot possibly be that girl… even though I want to be her.

I am happy there are things happening in Long Beach all the time! This prevents me from massive boredom. Just today there was art walk (still in progress, I guess) and now I crossed the street and there are some plays being performed at a very local, very low key theatre called Alive Theatre. So I bought a ticket, came back to my apt to grab a jacket and I am headed back there now.

My one wish for my apartment: an outdoor patio of some sort! My location is perfect, my apartment is perfect. I love everything about the place in which I live except for the one missing factor: that fresh air and spending time outdoors just lounging reading a book. It’s not quite the same spending time lounging inside as it is outside.

Next morning.

I truly love where I live. Most everything is within walking distance (which I love) which gives me that perfect excuse to go outside and get some sun, breathe in that cool breeze.

But. And there’s always a but these days… It’s so so so hard to focus on the wonderful minutiae of my days when the bigger grander story of my life is completely a mess. Nothing is going according to my nonexistent plan. Subconsciously I suppose even without plans I have expectations and needs. Constant talk of needs. Needs, because I have everything I want – just nothing that I need.

For example, I walked to breakfast this morning half a mile away to this supposed amazing donut place in Long Beach. Yes, the donut was great and the coffee was the best. And I got some reading done (an impossibility once I’m indoors). And I got to see some really interesting local places. But in the end I was walking alone, without even a hint of conversation. While I ate my sickeningly delicious maple cinnamon bun the two people behind me started talking about so many interesting things and I wanted pretty badly to join in or talk to someone, yet there was nothing but an empty chair in front of me.

Trying to figure out what’s missing is easy. Filling that void is not.

Of course I can do everything alone. That’s not the point I’m trying to bring across. That’s not in question. I can entertain myself, find things to do, places to go, new wonderful activities to fill my time. But at the end of the day, none of it is worth sharing because you just wouldn’t know what I meant because the experience was mine and mine alone.

Trying to explain Soundwalk and mimicking my excitement from that night is so hard. Going over the story of the 4 plays from last night is also pointless because no one is interested.

Everything’s great. Except nothing is as it needs to be in my life.

I can pretend like getting a job in PR would significantly improve the quality of my life. But that’s only a part of the bigger picture. And in a small way, in my mind, everything was just going to fall into place once I graduated college. That happened 10 months ago and while I have come such a long way, why is it not enough? I can feel myself getting older with each passing month. And I’m just not THERE yet. At that happy place. The place where all of life is perfect.

All the small things are beautiful, but they’re set in the most horrible backdrop.

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