And I am not mad about it.
I am consistently and always at least a decade behind the trend of the week/ constantly catching up with the quick technological changes of the world. Often I feel like I am constantly playing catch up with society, finally understanding what people are talking about like 12 years later. What is so great about my hesitancy to keep up with what the kids are doing, that sometimes I win the lottery. I completely miss a trend, therefore not having to invest the time, energy, cool crystal, or deal with the physical matter of said trend. Case in point: DVDS!! I have successfully gone through life owning only 5 dvd movies. I regret nothing about this lack of enthusiasm over a hobby/entertainment/creative outlet. I am cleaning the studio, and I discovered my pitiful selection of dvds and this makes me so happy. I wasted zero time, money, cool energy, diminished my plastic footprint in the garbage cans, and saved shelf space on the bookcase by not stacking this library and that is a life win. Who cares about dvds? NOBODY. And nobody ever will again. Until the internet runs dry, perhaps, but my new sexy computer doesn’t even have a disk drive. Cya cool rainbow reflective disc, never again. Very sure that I can’t even give away my entire 5 disc dvd collection at the garage sale.
I love to be alone. Not always, not everyday, but sometimes I want to be utterly alone. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to see anybody. I want to feel separated from humanity, to be included in nothing except my own thoughts, feelings, impressions, and inspirations. It has nothing to do with depression, anger, or disappointment. Its not about love lost, betrayal, or bitterness. It is that I simply like to be with only myself.
Its hard to be alone, to find solitude and peace in the active city. More so with roommates whom are often home because you live in a cold, expensive city. Fortunately for my lonely tastes, my backyard dead ends directly with the graveyard. There is a tall concrete wall separating the world of the living with the damnation of the deceased. Walk around the block, and on the other side is an entrance into a silent, distant world. A life that is not visited by many living souls, a quite village, a silent dance party. I can stroll a brief 10 minutes around the block and enter a world where I can find complete solitude in the middle of an early almost- warm spring day. Trapped within the tall and cool concrete walls, even the sounds of the passing cars and stopping busses are muted. So quickly and easily the city life is reduced to simply myself. Within these silent walls I walk through all that remains of so many lives, the repayments of a history of people are boiled down to two dates, a slab of marble, and if you are lucky a short quote or if you are really lucky a giant, out dated statue.
The cemetery during the day does not provoke feeling of creepiness, danger, or uncertainty. Exposed under watchful glare of father sun, the cemetery inspires serenity, introspection, and reflection. The weight of the stones change the magnitude of oneself, challenges your notion of your place on history’s timeline. Its impossible not to see your existence as just a snapshot in time.
Wandering alone, slightly cold, with my scarf wrapped all the way down my wrists, curling around my red fingers, I seek out the patches of sunshine, avoid the patches of shadow created by the old tall trees and the cold tall marble statues. I find a small flowering tree. Its branches reach down toward the ground and are speckled with tiny white flowers. The tree is peaceful, serene, perfect in the graveyard. So still and so beautiful. Instantly, I want this to be a place for a ceremony of marriage. I know that sounds creepy, but I just explained how its so perfect.
I dressed like a school teacher today. Long, flowing dress, loss fitting with a nice retro sweater on top. It felt right, good. Not sexy or male inviting, but good. Nice. Warming.
I have been feeling a little more than bad lately due to many reasons: bad diet, too much drunkenness, sheer hormones, inconsiderate roommate, too much sugar, not enough love.
I had a great dance tonight and that’s where it ended. A great dance. The best dance. The best dance ever. So in synced, so right, so tribal, so it. So the best. My friends were so impressed, so jealous, so suggested..the secret? I am sure that the man was gay. That’s why it was so easy, so natural, so unpressured, so simple. What does this say about me and my sexuality? Why do I pair so well with my gay men? It was marvelous, that dance. No talking, no walls, just that fucking awesome band blaring out the feeling. 12 member band on a Wednesday night making me feel great. So great.
Sometimes I get so distracted and excited and sidetracked that I get overwhelmed and confused and forget who I am. Those little details the describe oneself, that you take for granted if you don’t work at keeping them trim and proper. When you work too much it’s easy to forget what types of things you like to do in your spare time, what are the songs that consistently make you dance, that favorite scented shampoo, how and why to paint your toenails, how to find enjoyment in whatever it is you choose to do. When you spend too much of your spare time chasing beer or boys, the battery in your camera dies, all your good drawing pens get lost, you don’t have a good book to read, and you have no idea what is going on in politics.
I joined a dating website and you have to sell yourself to strangers, make yourself seem cool, intelligent, good looking but not fucking hot, charming, nonchalant. It’s about nit picking trivial details to try and describe the entirely of your strange and stretching personality in a few words to an invisible room full mostly of ugly men. But hell, there might be a cute one out there looking for a weird, but kinda cute, extremely witty, sorta young lady.
Its making me feel introspective that I cannot round out in a few sentences what I am about. I am not sure myself. I mean I sorta forgot. With chasing a career goal and filling in the free time with matters of the physical and the heart, I squeezed out that slice of pie that is devoted to self-experimentation. When I hustle and bustle too much, the adornments are kept very simple; I travel light. Anything can get reacquired, remembered, reconceived, but sometimes I forget where I left the notes.
Struggling with self-doubt and simultaneously anger at not trusting my abilities. You have to remain humble, but why am I so god damn scared? Confidence is the key, hesitation under bakes the cake. I used to trust myself, but keep disappointing myself because I set my standards to the moon high. Where did that trust go? Its should be around here somewhere.
I am working on becoming my self again. Doing the things that I feel like doing, not letting the outside world sway me quite so much. I am constantly inspired, but I need to remember to stay focused on matters that directly relate to the health and welfare of the personal empire.