i’m smiling again.
i started making myself sit at my office computer and finish all my detailed paperwork junk. it’s made all the difference. i leave work, and i don’t loathe going back the next day.
i’ve started seeing my eyelashes in front of my eyes when i’m looking at things lately. why do i have eyelashes? science, blah blah blah. the check out girl at winn dixie asked me if mine were fake. i was flattered, really. but why do i even have them? and why is it pretty to clog up my tiny eye hairs with mascara goop? i think it’s cool eyelashes are there, because there’s always something in between my eyeball and what i’m looking at.
it’s all about curly hair. and having your eyes so close to someone that they’re out of focus. i like telling secrets as much as i like keeping secrets. “i’m gonnaaa giiiive allllll myyyyy seeecrets awayyyyyy.”
it’s crime show sunday. i get scared, and then i have to do my nightly ritual of turning on nick at nite while i sleep. george lopez, friends, that 70s show, henry sleeping on my face, my alarm goes off, i ignore it for three hours, fifteen minutes to get ready for work and still be five minutes late. when will walking dead be back on? februaryisTOOfarAWAY. i can’t really go to sleep scared without zombies.
last year i tried so hard to be cookie cutter. look at my successful corporate job. look at my posh apartment. look at my socialite friends. look at my rich boyfriend. all those things sucked. ok, maybe they didn’t suck. some of those things are cool. my job is nifty. my apartment rules. my friends are nice. and i dumped that boyfriend, so it’s a moot point. i just let myself suck because of getting caught up in those things. i’m not cookie cutter, and i never blinked an eye at being me at whatever cost. i never thought i’d wear panty hose to work. i never thought i’d be in civic clubs. i never thought i’d care so much about the politics in every situation.
it’s exhausted me to care about appearances. some of my extended family care so much about looks that i don’t think there’s more to them than the exterior. i think keeping up appearances stole their souls. that’s why i keep this blog. i cringe about the honesty in it. i cringe even more when i read back in my real journal. but being authentic is so important to me. even if it means i contradict myself constantly on the search for who i should be in relation to who i am.
i’m a mess. not a trainwreck kind of mess–just a tornado, really. i have so many thoughts, and they aren’t very organized. i have the outline of a normal life. a job, a home, a family. and then i have an explosion of life/thoughts/dreams that have me spinning around in circles.
and i’m coming to accept that is who i am. i will always feel best when i have met my basic needs while keeping the adventure that makes me who i am.
it frustrates me when my memory can’t keep up with my experiences. like when i have an incredible adventure that overloads my senses, and i want to keep every feeling and every word and every minute. but it fades so, so fast. writing it down doesn’t help, and then it just ends up being this bubble of a memory that my mind categorizes as a good thought. in a bank of memories that makes my heart beat a little harder when i look up and remember. i don’t like the way my mind changes my experiences. it takes the real reality and makes it my fake reality based on what’s occurred. i wonder what someone else’s mind would be like for a little while. just for comparison.
xbox. next episode.