New Year’s Eyes.
I’m constantly going through a battle in my head concerning the way I approach this blog and perhaps that’s one of the reasons why I haven’t written anything in awhile. Do I buck up to the reality of things? Not hide my identity? Try to be objective as possible about my experiences so that I may learn something from them? Or do I tell everyone that the entire journal is a fake, made-up, fictitious version of a reality I created about people who may or may not exist. And then when I think about the exciting, socially-unacceptable details of my stories, I get elated, but then suddenly feel like I’m walking the plank, when my fingers are resting on the keyboard, surging with the energy to let go and say everything I’ve been wanting to say, but was too afraid of saying, and think to myself, “Did I really do that? Is this too much for people? Do people want to hear this? Will I be judged and persecuted? Will I be praised for my honesty?”
Maybe some of you guys could comment and let me know what would be more interesting for you to read.
I’ll admit I’m struggling. I believe this is because I could really not focus on my issues with work and school and everything that went on during the semester, and so now that I finally have such little responsibility (just to show up to work and be functional enough), all my shit is coming out, and I’m having a tough time.
Finding a therapist is now the priority, so that I can get that done before the next semester starts in February. It’s not just a priority because it’s what I should do, it’s a priority out of necessity. I think the only thing that keeps me sane is my ability to shut down my brain when my thoughts start to spiral out of control. The only way I’m able to do that is because the thoughts become so incomprehensible, that I shake them off, similar to a dog shaking off excess water after an unpleasant bath. Only I’m not clean after, just peculiar. I am realizing that I have a lot of demons I have to face, and I’m really scared to face them. Deep down I don’t believe that I can ever make sense of the way I think and the things I do. As much as I want to be a person of conviction, and someone who knows what they think and why they think it. I used to be like that when I was about 16-17. I remember it was one of the most peaceful, simple, happy times of my life. I loved going to school so much. Going to class made me horny. Sometimes I’d be so excited, I’d be gently squirming in my seat. I was being stimulated and challenged and I know that I grew intellectually during this time. I felt good about being in the world, like I had a grasp on reality, and reality was subject to my every wish and whim.
Now I just finished this last semester up with 3 A’s and a B, which was an incredible feat for me. It’s the first time I had been to school in two years after living way too fast and impulsively. The idea of one semester was a terrifyingly huge commitment. To be somewhere at a certain time and place, ever week, was like saying yes to a baby or a marriage. Surprisingly, and through some major changes in my life, I finished the semester, diligently studying and turning in all of my assignments. It was a huge improvement from my inability to do anything “normal”.
Something that I’ve come to realize over these past couple weeks, is that I do not have any close friends in my life. I have three in particular, actually, Pete, Allison, and Lily, who are the kind of friends that I know without a doubt, will be my friends for the rest of my life and will always be there for me. Perhaps if I lived in the same city, I would have them as my everyday friends, but my world is so separate here. It is very hard to include people in my life solely over the phone or internet. I guess I tend to jump from thing to thing, at first with an intensity that could not be trumped, for whatever or whoever it was at the moment. Which explains why I have no long-lasting friends. It’s not that I feel that this is a huge hole of emptiness inside me. I really feel fortunate to have met all the wonderful people I have. Sometimes I wish I would have kept a more diligent journal of all these characters so that I could write about them. Most people certainly bore the hell out of me, but I also look back and remember the most wonderful people I thought didn’t really exist, the kind of people that for some reason inspired you instantaneously, making you feel at peace with the world. A quote by Thoreau in Walden comes to mind, “There is an incessant influx of novelty in the world and yet we tolerate incredible dullness.”
I’m done for now, though not finished, and I can already predict that I will leave many blogs left to be finished at a later time, or to be forgotten alltogether. Either way, I’d rather post this now then wait to finish it as then I’d never post anything.
xo Free Bird
