Though I was blind
I dreamt of a light
The glow became bright
My sight purified
But I opened my eyes
And was unsatisfied
Nothing I saw
Nothing I found
So out of my mouth
I sent forth a sound
But the sound became proud
From within and without
I was alone
So I brought you to life
Your heart couldn’t bear it
So I gave you mine
But you didn’t love me
So I lay down to die
Then out in the void
I came to realize
This death was a lie
A deception of mind
So I cast it aside
— the Soil & the Sun
Are you in the sky?
Are you in my mind?
Could I look into your eyes?
Are you in the rays?
Are you in the shade?
Does it matter anyway?
How could I know?
Where do you go?
Where are you going?
How could I know?
Are we out of touch?
Do we talk too much?
Have I said enough?
Were you in the fire?
Did you pass me by?
Will I always wonder why?
Are you in disguise?
Are you undefined?
Should I look into the light?
Are you out of sight?
On the other side?
Should I slip into the night?
How could I know?
Where do you go?
Where are you going?
How could I know?
— the Soil & the Sun, “Are You?”
My coworker stepped out for a good hour just now and she’s been monopolizing the air waves with cheesy 80s pop and 90s throwbacks. While I’ve enjoyed the good run, I immediately decided to slip into the musical equivalent of a silk nightgown.
I immediately got filled with emotion where I felt like I couldn’t quite breathe and my eyes started watering pretty hardcore. Anthony Green, Sufjan Stevens, Andrew Bird, the Soil & the Sun, Lost in the Trees — these are some of the artists that really fucking move me, usually to tears.
Since last year, things seem to be moving at an exponential rate. New experiences are being had almost every day and as a result I seem to learn something new about life every day.
It just feels like that place where I wanted to be when I was in high-school… is here. I am at that point. In high-school I wanted college to be done and over with, I wanted to be at a steady job, with a home, with happiness and with love and with life excitement.
Certainly on a daily basis I can get sad 2393745738475 times and feel happy an equal amount of times, too. It doesn’t really have much bearing on my overall happiness of my present situation. I just feel like I’m on the right path to wherever I’m supposed to go. Maybe happiness is just an extremely foreign feeling to me that I’m sort of flailing my arms about going, “woah woah what is this sudden situation?” like it’s far from my norm of yesteryear. Or maybe this is what lots and lots of sex does to me. Things just seem to melt away. I’m mostly kidding about attributing happiness to sex… fucken lmao.
I should probably delete the above for privacy’s sake. But uh… Does it matter anyway?
The road to establishing a strong basis for personal growth is the creation of a routine.
I know I’ve created these sorts of posts before but at present my ideal routine would look something like this:
- 3AM: Morning jog. Is this safe? Is this realistic? Will it be … gasp, cold? Also, maybe feed the dog.
- 3:30AM: Skip, jump, hop, run my ass into the shower.
- 4:00AM: The hair, the makeup, the clothing.
- 4:45AM: Walk the dog. Try not to feel too guilty about the brevity of his walk if he manages to conduct business. I ain’t got a backyard and that’s not subject to change for a few years. But I do what I can.
- 5:10AM: Morning tea w/ a squeeze of lemon. Skip the coffee, I rarely drink the full cup anyway. Grab breakfast and lunch, as they’re already prepared. No morning scramble. Except a fresh morning egg scramble would be fantastic but unrealistic. I do what I can?
- 5:20AM: In the car. En route to work.
- 6:00AM-2:00PM: Work.
- 3:00PM: Home. Kiss doggy hello. Pray for energy. Change into exercise/home clothes.
- 3:30PM: Meditate for 15 minutes. I can spare the time. Repeat: I can spare the time to stop for 15 minutes. (I’m saying this in my head as nonchalantly as possible while trying to still the anxiety in my beating heart.)
- 4:00PM: Starve for a little while. Mostly because Walk the dog comes back into play here. But for a longer duration. I honestly considered preparing dinner in this time slot but alas, another creature on this here Earth depends on me to be responsible.
- 4:35PM: Healthy dinner. Think ahead to tomorrow’s breakfast and lunch. Prepare extra and/or pack ahead of time.
- 6:00PM: Mentally slap myself awake. Heehee. I mean… prepare to do some evening movement/exercise be it Yoga, Freeletics, Insanity, Barre. And by prepare this may mean driving.
- 6:30-7:30PM: Twerk. Werq? Fun ways to say I’m sweating it off.
- 8:00-9:00PM: Home. “Rinse.” Walk the dog… You see the pattern here?
- 9:00PM: Sweet, beautiful, delicious sleep.
If this seems like time micromanagement… that’s because it is. And if you notice I failed to include TV time, or reading time… you are a keen observer. And I, a sad child. But that’s what weekends are for, right? Also I forgot to include time with family, friends, the love, so… uh… this is super unrealistic. People love to suck up time with hour long phone calls and such. Actually… maybe this is why I constantly see people talking on the phone when they’re walking their dogs… Multi-tasking. That’s a thought.
And speaking of thoughts, this is all wishful thinking. Somehow it’s rather hard to find the energy to do all these things when I’ve been sleeping at 10:00pm and waking up at 3:30am. Sigh…
Daring to dream of perfect days and the perfect life.
I have perhaps cried more times in the last 5 months than in the last 5 years combined. That may in part have something to do with the fact that there is now someone on the receiving end of sirens. It makes me feel like some overgrown and overindulgent baby whining and complaining and crying without the adult quite being able to understand why nor how to conciliate me. The baby just cries, grows exhausted from it, and falls asleep. That’s sort of how my crying goes, too. Crying for the sake of?
Maybe the crying works more like a crack in a dam. The walls hold the water in so tight until finally a build-up of pressure creates a crack — a sliver of an excuse to show the drops, and slowly the water corrodes the wall that suddenly it’s just okay for the water to flow through to the other side because it is inevitable.
Despite proclaiming how I’ve suddenly crossed the threshold from “young adult” to “old as fuck” I always feel extremely young of mind. As in, there are countless emotional accolades I have yet to achieve. I’ve always been a bit slower to process emotional information and understand the repercussions.
Honestly there is a continual and residual feeling of “I’m not good enough” which I’m trying to logically combat. I feel like for a long time I have said that everything is transient and ever-changing. I know these things to be true and so… I wait. I wait for the moment in which he will stop loving me, the moment in which he will stop wanting to caress or kiss me. I just feel like such a flawed individual that the transience of any affection towards me will come sooner rather than later. Relying on someone other than myself is extremely hard to do because people are simply disappointing, eventually.
I am precariously torn between rushing in and backing away; I want everything, and all at once – but as soon as something is had, perhaps no longer wanted? And so wanting this feeling to last, I am hesitant to dive in all the way for fear of its going away that much faster. I guess the life lesson here is to enjoy things while they last because nothing is permanent.
Anyway. What I’m really trying to say is that I love my boyfriend. Cue immediate wincing because revealing emotions like this feels akin to peeling back a small amount of skin and exposing it to the winds. I almost feel embarrassed at feeling. I did just mention my emotional youth yeah?
How I got lucky enough to find anyone to love me is beyond me… let alone the fact he’s supremely sweet, caring, romantic, thoughtful as fuck, and just… everything I could need in a partner. Cue eyes rolling at how typical a girl in love I sound. I guess I just always supposed that a partnership was both beyond me and beneath me — as a protective measure. The walls come down and the defenses are low… Hence the recent crying and general emotional sensitivity.
Also… I just stumbled upon this quote at random and now my writing and entire blog post is suddenly verbose and “not quite good enough.” Apropos. Touché, dear Internet.
“But love is much like a dam: if you allow a tiny crack to form through which only a trickle of water can pass, that trickle will quickly bring down the whole structure, and soon no one will be able to control the force of the current. For when those walls come down, then love takes over, and it no longer matters what is possible or impossible; it doesn’t even matter whether we can keep the loved one at our side. To love is to lose control.”
― Paulo Coelho, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept
I’m going to stop writing now. All the things have been said before.